»-*%T 






^^v^.'*'' 



JH25H5H5H525E5H5S25H5L_ 



War department IRtearg. 




r' 




Glass. 
Book 




/j 



irM 



I 




iSEffi 



^ 



y ••* 



« ^K« • iWi 



*M&l 



mm 


























MSBR 


• * * 


7 * •> • "S fa V ^^4 .^M 






ill 


k:J»r»«S* 


'-'.y# 



ar*: 



LECTURE 



ON THE 



HISTORY OF LITERATURE 




ANCIENT AND MODERN, 



FREDERICK SCHLEGEL, ,.5 



NOW FIRST COMPLETELY TRANSLATED. 



LONDON: 

BELL & DALDY, YORK STREET, GO VENT GARDEN. 

1871. 



TTA ^ 



5l> 






LONDON : 

PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AN1> SONS, STAMFORD STREET 

AND CHARING CROSS. 



By Transfer 

(ViAB 25 191/ 



TO HIS EXCELLENCY CLEMENS WENCESLA.US LOTHER 

PRINCE METTERNICH, 

HIS IMPERIAL AND APOSTOLIC MAJESTY'S PRIYY-CHANCELLOR, 

PRINCIPAL SECRETARY OE STATE, AND MINISTER OE FOREIGN AFFAIRS, 

&C. &C. &C. 



I venttiee to dedicate to your Excellency this course of 
Lectures on Literature, in their present improved form, with 
feelings of profound veneration. It were no slight grati- 
fication to know that the picture it gives of the intellectual 
features of the most remarkable European nations, possessed 
an interest in your eyes. I might then venture to hope 
that I had accomplished some portion at least of my design. 
Eor it has been my special wish to assist in filling up the great 
chasm which still severs the literary world and man's intel- 
lectual life from practical reality, and to exhibit the momen- 
tous influence of a nation's intellectual culture on the course 
of universal progress and the fate of Empires. If not 
merely the learned and the ordinary friends of literature, 
but those also who are called to direct this progress, were 
pleased to approve and take an interest in my representa- 
tion, I should require no better proof that my attempt 
has not entirely failed. With this feeling, then, it is very 
flattering to me to have received your Excellency's permis- 
sion to dedicate my present volume to you ; and I derive 
additional pleasure from the opportunity thereby afforded 
me of recording those sentiments of respect and grateful 
homage which will never cease to be entertained for your 
Excellency by your most obedient humble servant, 

Vienna, 1815. pEEDERTCK ScHLEGEL. 

In these sentiments the present publisher, with grateful 
feelings, heartily joins. 

London, 1859- HeFBY G. BOHN. 




PREF 



The works of the brothers Schlegel, as far as it is pro- 
posed to translate them for the Standard Library, are com 
pleted by the present volume, which comprises perhaps the 
most masterly, either of their joint or separate productions. 
Indeed it has been currently recognized in Germany as " a 
great national possession." The literary public will have 
become familiar with the substance of these celebrated Lec- 
tures, by the pleasing though rather free abridgment of 
them, attributed to the late Mr. Lockhart, which has gone 
through several editions both in England and America. 
The publisher had long entertained the intention of adding 
the work to his series, in a complete and unabridged form, 
but while there was a substitute of any kind in the market 
he saw no reason for haste. The time having at length 
arrived when it seemed to him that publication ought to 
be no longer delayed, he engaged for a translation with a 
gentleman whom, though untried, he believed to be perfectly 
competent. But when the first sheets came from the 
printer he found them so unsatisfactory that, after revising 
a considerable portion himself, he placed the remainder 
in the hands of one of his most careful coadjutors. There 
are therefore three translators concerned in the present 
volume, upon one of whom at least the public have been j 
accustomed to rely. 

It must be conceded that it is by no means an easy task 
to transfuse the rich and poetical style of Schlegel into its 
equivalent in English, but it is a rule with the publisher 



VI PREFACE. 

never to have any thing omitted or slurred over on account 
of its difficulty. In the previous translation there are many 
omissions, including much of Schlegel's religious feeling, 
which, as he tells us in his preface (never before translated), 
is meant to be a distinguishing feature of his book — this, no 
doubt, is an injustice to the author. 

It is a curious fact that neither the German original, in 
any of its numerous editions, nor the English or French 
translations, are accompanied by an Index, which in a His- 
tory of Literature seems most especially required : in the 
present edition this deficiency is supplied. 

Schlegel's work, on its first complete publication in Ger- 
many, was dedicated to that eminent statesman, Prince 
Metternich, then in the zenith of his distinguished career, — 
it is now on its first complete publication in England, after a 
lapse of forty-five years, again dedicated to him, while he is 
still happily in the full vigour of his mental capacity ; and 
that, as the cycle of events has willed it, by the son of one 
who was his companion and schoolfellow threescore and 
ten years ago. 

Heney G. Bohn. 

February, 1859. 



PREFACE 

TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 1815. 



Twenty years have now elapsed since the appearance of 
my first efforts in reviewing the literature and genius of 
Greece. Although the youthful enthusiasm pervading those 
efforts could not completely realize the proposed aim in 
every direction, yet, upon the whole, the undertaking was 
not unfavourably received : having gradually met with indul- 
gence, and even encouraging approval, at the hands of the 
ablest judges, owing probably to the sincerity of my 
endeavours. 

After thus passing several years in seclusion devoted 
wholly to the study of ancient literature, I no sooner laid 
my first attempt before the public than I was stimulated by 
its success and the powerful excitement of the age, to direct 
my enquiries to modem literature : this was effected partly 
in conjunction with my brother A. "W. Schlegel and 
partly alone, after my own method. But my system 
of thought differed so widely from prevalent standards that 
the undertaking, although not altogether without results, in 
reference to the very marked influence it exercised, was calcu- 
lated to excite opposition and censure rather than to enlist 
friends. 

Meanwhile, external effects could never long interrupt 
the progress of my private investigations, inasmuch as the 
satisfaction of my own literary curiosity at all times con- 
stituted the primary object of my pursuits, and was of 
more consequence in my eyes than mere literary renown. 
This yearning after knowledge naturally led me to Oriental 
languages and the less familiar domains of Indian literature, 
at a time of life generally considered too advanced to admit 
of the commencement of fresh studies. The first-fruits of 
these investigations were submitted to my contemporaries, 
some six years ago, in my Treatise on the Language and 
Philosophy of India.* 

* Published in Schlegel's Aesthetic Works. Bohn, 1849, 3* 6d. 



V1U PREFACE. 

During all these varied literary occupations, Mediaeval 
Art, and more especially old German poetry, language, and 
history, strongly attracted my attention and regard. Though 
commenced at an earlier period,this particular department of 
enquiry was chiefly pursued during the twelve years that have 
elapsed since 1802. Whatever, in its various branches, ap- 
peared to me especially remarkable, or not generally known, 
I have touched upon as occasion served : other materials 
are before me, and partly prepared, but not yet at sufficient 
maturity to be published. 

Thus it has happened that my labours in the domains of 
literature, devoted chiefly to the history of poetic art and 
criticism, have remained fragmentary from their very 
manifold and diversified nature ; and I have long enter- 
tained a wish to effect a systematic review of the whole. 
The lectures I delivered in the spring of 1812, before a nu- 
merous audience, afforded me the desired opportunity, since 
they were composed in a manner adapted to the general pub- 
lic and to the press. I venture at least to flatter myself that 
many of those who took an interest in my former literary 
exertions in individual branches may not be unwilling to 
accept this comprehensive summary ; whilst there are some 
perhaps, to whom the present features of my plan may be 
interesting, though they found little attraction in the critical 
details of my former disquisitions. 

An actual literary history, replete with quotations and 
biographical notices, must not be expected here. My only 
purpose has been to pourtray the genius of literature during 
every age, as a whole, and to trace the course of its development 
among the most important nations. Detailed critical enquiry 
on individual topics, such as I have frequently attempted 
in my other treatises, was not within the province of my 
present undertaking, which is restricted to a general survey. 
Yet the results of such enquiries will often be found briefly 
stated on occasions when those results appeared to be not 
only novel but even important in their general bearing. 
From the characteristics given of the most distinguished 
authors, it will be readily perceived that I have communed 
long and frequently with them. If at any time, with the 
object of illustration, a work inaccessible to my research, 
however unimportant, excepting as one of a series, has to be 
adduced, this fact will be duly indicated. 



PBEFACE. IX 

Should this Delineation of Literature embrace more of the 
History of Philosophy than might be expected from such 
a title, let this not be accounted as excrescent or accidental : 
since it fully accords with my peculiar conceptions of litera- 
ture, insisted on throughout, that it is the comprehensive 
essence of the Intellectual Life of a Nation. It is hoped, 
therefore, that this superfluity, even if regarded as such, will 
not be deemed a faults 

Peedeeick Schlegel. 



CONTENTS. 



LECTUEE I. 



Introduction and plan of the Work. — Influence of Literature on the 
mode of life and the moral dignity of Nations. — Poetry of the 
Greeks from the earliest ages to the days of Sophocles . . 1 

LECTURE II. 

Later Greek Literature. — Sophistry and Philosophy. — Alexan- 
drinian Period . .... 29 



LECTUEE III. 

Review. — Influence of the Greeks over the Eomans. — Sketch of 
Roman Literature . . . . . .55 



LECTUEE IV. 

Brief duration of Roman Literature. — New epoch under Hadrian. — 
Influence of Oriental thought over the Philosophy of the West. — 
Mosaic records, Hebrew poetry. — 'ihe Persian Religion. — Idea of 
the Bible, and characteristics of the Old Testament . .76 

LECTUEE V. 

Indian Monuments and Epics. — Ancient modes of Sepulture. — 
Indian Literature and Intellect . . . . .107 



LECTUEE VI. 

Retrospect to Europe.— Influence of Christianity on the Language 
and Literature of Rome.— Characteristics of the New Testa- 
ment.— The Nations of the North.— Gothic Epics. — Odin, Runic 
Writings, the Edda 133 



CONTENTS. 



LECTURE VII. 

Teutonic Poetry. — The Middle Ages. — Origin of modern European 
Languages. — Mediaeval Poetry — Love-Songs. — Influence of Nor- 
man Character on the Spirit of Chivalrous Poetry— more espe- 
cially relating to Charlemagne . . . . . 1 56 

LECTURE VIII. 

Third set of chivalrous Poems. — Arthur and the Round Table. — 
Influence of the Crusades and of the East on the Poetry of the 
West. — Arabic SoDg. — The Persian Epic of Eerdusi. — Last com- 
pilation of the Nibelungen-Lied. — Wolfram von Eschenbach. — 
Real import of Gothic Architecture. — Later chivalrous Poetry. — 
TheCid . . . . . . . .177 

LECTUEE IX. 

Italian Literature. — Mediaeval Allegory. — Christianity and Poetry.— 
Dante, Petrarch, Boccacio. — General character of Italian Poetry. 
— Latin verse of modern times. — Injurious influence of the same. — 
Old Roman systems of polity. — Macchiavelli. — Important Dis- 
coveries of the fifteenth century . . . . - 196 

LECTURE X. 

Literature of the Northern and Eastern Nations of Europe. — Scho- 
lastic Divinity and German Mysticism of the Middle Ages .216 

LECTUEE XI. 

General Remarks on Philosophy previous and subsequent to the 
Reformation — Poetry of Catholic Countries — Spain, Portugal, 
Italy. — Garcilaso, Ercilla, Camoens, Tasso, Guarini, Marino, 
Cervantes . . . . . . . .236 

LECTUEE XII. 

Romance. — Dramatic Poetrv of Spain.— Spenser, Shakspere, Mil- 
ton.— Age of Louis XIV.— Erench Tragedy . . .258 

LECTUEE XIII. 

Philosophy of the Seventeenth Century.— Bacon, Hugo Grotius, 
Descartes, Bossuet, Pascal. — Change iu mode of Thought. — 
Spirit of the Eighteenth Century. — Sketch of Erench Atheism 
and Revolutionary Spirit . . . . * 286 



CONTENTS. 



LECTURE XIV. 



Lighter Productions of the French, and imitation of the English. — 
Fashionable Literature in France and England. — Modern Ro- 
mance. — Prose of Rousseau and BufFon. — Lamartine.— English 
popular Poetry. — Scott and Byron. — Modern Theatre of the 
Italians. — English Criticism and History. — Scepticism and moral 
belief. — Return to a purer and loftier Philosophy in France. — 
Bonald and St. Martin, Lamennais and De Maistre. — Sir William 
Jones and Burke ....... 308 

LECTUEE XV. 

Retrospect. — German Philosophy. — Spinoza and Leibnitz. — Lan- 
guage and Poetry of Germany during the Sixteenth and Seven- 
teenth Centuries; Luther, Hans Sachs, Jacob Boehmen. — Opitz 
and the Silesian School. — Degeneracy of Taste after the Peace 
of Westphalia: Occasional Poems.— German Poets of the first 
half of the Eighteenth Century. — Frederic H. — Klopstock: the 
Messiah and Northern Mythology.— Wieland's chivalrous Poetry. 
— Metrical quantity of the Ancients adapted to the German Lan- 
guage. — Defence of Rhyme. — Adelung, Gottsched, and the so- 
called Golden Age. — First Generation of Modern German Lite- 
rature, or Period of the Founders ..... 330 

LECTURE XVL 

General Survey. — Epoch of Genial Literature. — Direction of Poetry 
to Nature and the Living Reality of the Present. — German Cri- 
ticism. — Lessing and Herder: Prevalent ^Esthetics. — Lessingasa 
Philosopher : Freedom of Thought and the Illuminati : the 
Emperor Joseph II.— Character of the third Generation: Philo- 
sophy of Kant. — Goethe and Schiller. — Future Prospects. — Fichte 
and Tieck.— Real Character of German Literature. — Compre- 
hensive Idea of the Present Era • • • • . 359 




HISTORY OF ANCIENT AND MODERN 
LITERATURE. 



FIKST LECTTTBE. 

Introduction and plan of the work. — Influence of 
Literature on the mode of life and the moral 
dignity of Nations. — Poetry of the Greeks from 
the earliest aoes to the days of Sophocles. 

In the following lectures I purpose to take a comprehen- 
sive survey of the development and spirit of literature among 
the principal nations of ancient as well as of modern times : 
and more especially to consider literature in reference to 
its influence on practical life, on the destiny of nations, and 
on the progress of ages. 

The eighteenth century witnessed an important change 
in mental culture, especially in Germany, and one which 
cannot but be regarded as fortunate. Not that the indivi- 
dual efforts and achievements of art or science deserve 
indiscriminate praise, or were uniformly successful. But 
with respect to the extended relations of Literature, its closer 
sympathies with ordinary life, and the influence which it 
exercises, as well individually as on the nation, this change 
has proved no less beneficial than it was necessary. 

The learned, as a class, were formerly altogether separated 
from the rest of the world, as entirely from the higher 



2 THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 

ranks of society, as these were from the mass of the 
people. Keppler and Leibnitz wrote, for the most part, in 
Latin: Frederic the Second read, wrote, and thought only 
in Trench. The learned and the noble alike neglected 
their mother tongue. National recollections and feelings 
were abandoned to the guardianship of the people, among 
whom still lingered some remnants of the good old time, 
however feeble and mutilated; or they remained sacred to 
youthful enthusiasm and the daring speculations of a few 
poets and authors, who began to project a new order of 
things. Yet, so long as these efforts were individual, irre- 
gular, and wanting in combinative force, even youthful en- 
thusiasm could not always claim the triumph of complete 
success, or produce unequivocal results. 

The estrangement to which I have referred as existing be- 
tween the learned, the fashionable, and the great body of the 
people, respectively, prevailed throughout the whole of Ger- 
many during the latter half of the seventeenth, and the 
early portion of the eighteenth, centuries : and, indeed, the 
natural consequences thereof may be said not to have ter- 
minated even then in individual instances, though, upon the 
whole, a marked difference — the lengthening shadow of an 
eventful future — was clearly observable. At length, the 
rapidly increasing number of distinguished productions, or at 
least laudable attempts, dating from the middle of the eigh- 
teenth century, drew attention to the innate riches of the 
German language. Universal admiration was now directed 
to the great, the £Ood, and the beautiful, which had so long 
oeen suffered to lie dormant. Advantages inherent in the 
German idiom, such as its energy, flexibility, copiousness, 
began to be duly appreciated. These qualities had been 
concealed simply because the language had never before been 
treated in a congenial manner. And now, the more that 
patriotic reminiscences and affections were stirred up within 
the bosom of her sons, the more intense became the love 
of Germans for their mother-tongue. The acquisition of 
foreign languages, living or dead — an accomplishment so 
necessary to the learned — no longer involved neglect of their 
own : a neglect which invariably recoils on the head of the 
offender, and rarely, if ever, suggests a favourable opinion of 
his intellectual powers or attainments. The pains bestowed 



LEAEtfED EXCLUSIVENESS. d 

on the acquisition of foreign languages now turned to good 
account in behalf of the mother-tongue. All foreign idioms, 
even living ones, must needs be studied more elaborately than 
the mother tongue. But this sharpened the linguistic 
faculty : the sense that had been rendered acute in prac- 
tising foreign languages, now directed its operations to its 
own, as well in cultivating as criticising. A worthy rivalry 
ensued in well-directed efforts to add to the native excellence 
of the German — its strength and copiousness — the varied 
perfections of other languages both ancient and modern. 

It is not my intention to confine my remarks to the litera- 
ture of Germany: my enquiries, will, on the contrary, em- 
brace that of all Europe. I may observe here that in other 
countries, equally with Germany, the eighteenth century 
inaugurated a return to the national genius, marked by 
features of corresponding import and similar nature. In 
illustration of this, I need only adduce the example of 
England. In England, too, prostrate as it was during the 
second half of the seventeenth century from the effects of 
the civil wars that raged under the Protectorate, national 
taste had run wild, had grown licentious, imitative, and 
exotic in character. The language itself was neglected, 
the grand old poets and writers were almost forgotten. No 
sooner had England recovered her political independence, by 
means of a successful revolution, than her literature flourished 
anew. All affectation of foreign tastes and manners was 
banished from the soil : the people turned to their great na- 
tional poets with redoubled ardour. By dint of careful cul- 
ture the language assumed correctness of form : master-spirits 
arose, ancient memorials were fondly cherished ; to each relic 
of the past, however trifling, a significance hitherto unknown 
was attached ; so that in process of time, Britons fell under 
the meritorious reproach of too exclusive a nationality. 

The isolation of the learned, as a distinctive body, from 
the great mass of the people, is the most formidable obstacle 
in the way of national civilization. The various innate in- 
clinations, nay the very conditions and circumstances of men 
should, to a certain extent, cooperate, if the productions of 
the mind are to be perfected or appreciated. Eor how, in- 
deed, could any work be considered excellent, in which the 
fiery enthusiasm of youth is not blended with the mature 

b 2 



4i LITERATURE AND LIFE. 

wisdom of age ? Neither ought the tenderness of womanly- 
feeling to be wanting, as a leading element, in influencing 
the tone and manner of mental productions if they would 
aspire to the domains of the beautiful — if the genius of a 
nation is to be purely developed and its nobility of character 
maintained. The products of the mind cannot really be 
said to have any other fertile soil, in which to take root, 
than those sentiments common to all noble-minded and God- 
seeking men, and, with these, the genuine patriotism and 
national reminiscences of a people whose accents they breathe 
and whose welfare they are intended to promote. The dis- 
covery seems at last to have been made that, for the purposes 
of mental culture, an union of the various faculties of man, a 
concentration of energy and discipline — too often dissevered 
— is absolutely necessary. The matured wisdom of the 
philosopher, the rapid survey and quick decision of the 
practical man, the earnest inspiration of the artist living 
solely for his art, and the refinement to be found only in the 
intercourse of social life, have actually come in contact, or, at 
least, stand not so utterly aloof from each other as formerly. 
Yet, whilst recent times have witnessed considerable im- 
provement in the literature of several countries— in its in- 
creased nationality, higher development of mind, and closer 
affinity with the concerns of daily life, — difficulties before 
alluded to have not, as yet, been fully met. How often do 
we see literature and life completely alienated in this Ger- 
many of ours : like two distinct worlds having no interests, 
no sympathies in common ; or only exerting an injurious in- 
fluence by unsettling and perplexing on the one hand, ob- 
structing and paralysing on the other. And thus the manifold 
variety essentially characteristic of the productions of the 
mind, comprehended in the general term — literature — is to a 
great extent lost to the world, or at least is very far from 
exercising that amount of beneficial influence either on indi- 
viduals or the nation which it might and ought. Let us turn 
our attention briefly to the present condition of literature, 
and consider more especially the opinions generally enter- 
tained respecting the relations of the same to actual life. 
The Poet and the Artist are supposed to claim the peculiar 
prerogative of living in an ideal world of their own, as 
though this actual every-day world were unsuited to them j 



DISREGARD OE LITEEATUEE. 5 

and with regard to the man of learning it has long been an 
accepted maxim that he is of no practical utility. "We 
mistrust the powers of the practised orator, apprehensive 
lest he should use them to bend the truth to his own pur- 
poses with the design of misleading us. Unhappily, ex- 
perience and the history of our own times, teach us that 
philosophy not unfrequeutly misleads and involves in the most 
disastrous perplexity, whilst pretending to direct the foot- 
steps of the pilgrim to the serene realms of truth. The very 
charges and grievances preferred by philosophers against each 
other have contributed to make their mutual disagreements 
notorious among the uninitiated. Hence it has been inferred, 
and generally received, that it is not in the nature of Philo- 
sophy to attain the object of her investigations with certainty, 
or to decide infallibly, however earnest may be her aim. 
It is not, however, in accordance with the principles of justice 
to seek to paralyze the loftiest effort of which the human 
mind is capable — the knowledge of truth— by associating it 
with some of the failures that must, more or less, attend on 
all fallible pursuits. It need not, indeed, create surprise if 
those who are constantly employed in the administration of 
state and weighty affairs should be tempted to view the 
squabbles of authors as a mere drama, neither very important 
nor attractive. To such an extent have the countless volumes 
issued from a teeming press satiated the great majority of 
the reading public, that the appearance of a new book has 
come to be generally considered as little more than a super- 
fluous addition to the heap. I have tacitly admitted that 
authors, savans, poets, and artists, have themselves to blame 
for a considerable share of the disregard of literature, so 
prevalent in the world, though not always pointedly expressed ; 
yet, it will, I think, be readily granted that such disregard 
is, on the whole, at variance with right feeling and equity. 
For even if the contemptuous remarks levelled at literary 
productions generally were really based on facts, were there 
no individual honourable exceptions, did no mental efforts of 
the philosophic writer tend to promote the good of the world 
in general, and of his own country in particular, even then, 
I take it, the censure would apply to the abuse rather than, 
the practice of an art so momentous, so sublime. This de- 
preciation is, moreover, prejudicial to the interests of litera- 



6 IMPORTANCE OF LANGUAGE. 

ture, inasmuch as it is calculated to widen the breach 
between the inner, intellectual life, and the busy practical 
world, the schoolman and the statesman, so as, not unfre- 
quently, to create active hostility and mutual oppression. 

The importance of literature, in regard to the well-being 
and dignity of nations, cannot well admit of doubt : we will, 
therefore, proceed at once to a consideration of its essential 
nature, its train of varied consequences, and the magnitude 
of its general influence. 

And, first, let us contemplate literature in its true nature, 
entire extent, and original purpose and importance. This 
term includes all that circle of the arts and sciences and all 
the faculties of representation which have life and man him- 
self for their object, independently of outward act or material 
agency, working only through the instrumentality of thought 
and language, without any corporeal matter as a basis. 
Thereto, in the most especial manner, belongs poetry, and, 
next in degree, narrative, and descriptive history : then, 
reasoning and pure speculation, in so far as they influence 
the actions of human life : finally, wit and eloquence, provided 
they do not evaporate in the fleeting breath of words, but 
display themselves in the enduring form of written produc- 
tions. But this, if rightly understood, includes nearly the 
whole of man's intellectual life. What is there more 
completely characteristic of man, or of greater importance to 
him than language ? Eeason alone excepted, and even she 
must perforce employ the vehicle of language in order to 
fulfil aright her functions, mankind could not have been 
endowed with a more precious boon than the voice, compe- 
tent to intonate every changing shade of sentiment in song, 
adapted by easy flexibility to form all the subtle combina- 
tions and intricate articulations, which constitute the me- 
chanism of language. But of all the discoveries the mind 
has made by its native energy, the art of writing is incom- 
parably of the highest value. The Deity could not have pre- 
sented man with a more glorious gift, than that of language, 
by the medium of which he is revealed to us, and which links 
the human race in one bond of common brotherhood. Eeason 
and language, thought and word, are so essentially one, that, 
whilst on the one hand, we are accustomed to regard thought 
as the especial prerogative of man, we may, on the other, 



INFLUENCE OF OEATOET. 7 

connect speech, in essential significancy and import, with 
the original purposes of his creation. Since it is owing to 
the endowment of a soul, in whose depths the spirit fashions 
itself to the fructifying words of life, that man is likened 
unto his Creator, and in holy Scripture is called the image 
of the triune Creator.* 

Though we must discriminate in terms of exact distinc- 
tion between mental conception and verbal expression ; yet 
it will only be necessary to insist on maintaining, in its full 
integrity, the line of demarcation in the event of want of har- 
mony between the constituent elements. Originally one and 
the same, thought and word, ought not in their most diver- 
sified application, to be utterly severed, but rather reconciled 
and united as far as possible. 

And how much soever these two important gifts, which 
in their nature indeed are simply one, the prerogative 
that may be said to define and distinguish man's essence — 
thought and speech — are liable to abuse and error : yet the 
instinctive consciousness of their intrinsic worth, is abund- 
antly testified in the consequence we attach to them in exercis- 
ing our ordinary judgment. It were a work of supererogation 
to direct attention to the influence of rhetoric upon the 
concerns of every-day life, or to shew that eloquence has 
no little sway in biassing our judgment in the course of our 
relations to each other and to the state. Prom the indivi- 
dual we easily pass to the general, and suffer our estimation 
of the character of nations to be affected by similar considera- 
tions ; holding those in the highest repute for cultivation of 
intellect, who are wont to express their thoughts and wishes 
in a manner at once the most suitable, definite, and agreeable. 
And thus, from an intuitive preference of external form and 
expression, we are too often led unduly to postpone an 
examination of the mental characteristics and moral worth 
of those passing in review before us. Neither is this mode 
of criticism confined to individuals and groups in our imme- 
diate neighbourhood, since we insensibly accustom ourselves 
to the same criterion respecting those separated from us by 
a great extent of time and space. Let us take for example 
the case of a people who are styled by us Barbarians, 

* This passage is altogether omitted in Mr. Lockhart's translation. 



8 TEADITION. 

because we are unacquainted with their history and mode of 
life. The observant traveller has not long set foot upon their 
shores and become familiar with their language before he feels 
it necessary to exchange his former prejudices for a more 
favourable opinion. Barbarians they may be, he exclaims, 
and ignorant of our arts and refinements, and no less so of 
their injurious concomitants : but we cannot deny that they 
are endowed with a vigorous comprehension, and a marvel- 
lously natural acuteness. How striking are their repartees, 
how sententious and precise their phraseology. Thus every- 
where we are compelled to form our opinions of intellect from 
language and expression, in all phases and under the most 
varied circumstances of life. These however are individual 
decisions in individual cases. We shall best discover the 
dignity and the importance of the arts and sciences repre- 
sented in a spoken and a written form, if we trace their inti- 
mate connection with the moral worth and the destiny of 
nations in the long chapter of the world's history. The real 
character of literature, as the summary of a nation's intel- 
lectual capacity and progress, is then exhibited in its fullest 
extent. 

One of the most important advantages to a nation, in re- 
gard to its further development and especially its intellectual 
condition, is seen to be, judging by historical and relative 
evidence, the possession of a store of national traditions ; 
these as they become more and more faint in the long vista 
of ages, it is the especial business of poetry to commemorate 
with imperishable splendour. Such traditions, the most 
glorious heirloom of a country, are indeed a possession which 
nothing else can replace. And when the memory of great 
deeds of past ages, embodied in matchless strains of poetry, 
kindles the noblest feelings of a people and fires their bosoms 
with a glorious ardour, we too, who are called to pronounce 
upon their merits, are disposed to assign them a leading posi- 
tion in historic annals. Boundless aspiration, high emprise, 
notable events, do not alone suffice to ensure renown in the 
impartial judgment of posterity. Whole dynasties have, 
at the close of a turbulent and unsuccessful career, sunk 
into oblivion, and left scarce a trace behind them. Others 
more fortunate, have indeed, perpetuated the memory of their 



PHILOSOPHERS AND CONQUERORS. 9 

conquests, but the memorials hardly command our serious 
attention, unless national genius has stamped such enter- 
prises and successes, which are of but too frequent recur- 
rence in history, with a lofty impress. Deeds of prowess 
and exalted situations cannot, of themselves, command our 
admiration or determine our judgment ; a people that would 
rank high in our esteem must themselves be conscious of the 
importance of their own doings and fortunes. But history 
is the expression of this natural self consciousness. A 
people whose splendid triumphs and achievements live in 
the immortal pages of Livy, whose fading glory and latter 
degeneracy are displayed by the pen of a Tacitus, claim a. 
foremost rank in the annals of fame ; we should be doing 
violence to our sense of justice by associating them with 
the numerous hordes, whose history may be summed up by 
saying that they came on the stage as freebooters, and as 
such were driven from it. Of poets and artists, gifted with 
the power and magic of representation, who have ventured 
on the highest nights of fancy, and of philosophers skilled 
in penetrating the hidden depths of thought, the number 
must ever be small; and these can directly influence but 
very few in their own generation. But the sphere of their 
influence extends with the progress of ages, and their 
worth shines brighter and broader ; while on the other hand, 
even the lustre of the legislator's name, seen through altered 
conditions of society, glimmers dimly — and the fame of the 
conqueror, after a lapse of centuries, however great and 
all-absorbing may once have been the theme of his achieve- 
ments, gradually fades, till it becomes a mere speck in his- 
tory. It may be safely affirmed that Homer and Plato have 
contributed, not only in our own times, but even in hoary 
antiquity, in, at least as great a degree, to elevate and ex- 
tend the fame of Greece, as Solon and Alexander. The 
poet and the philosopher may unquestionably claim a greater 
share of the homage paid by the rest of civilized Europe to 
Greece, the cradle of European civilization, than the legisla- 
tor or the conqueror ; the very influence exerted by their 
genius and works on posterity and on the improvement of 
the human race exceeds both in extent and duration all the 
effects which laws and victories have ever produced. $ay, 



10 DOMAINS OF LITEKATTTEE. 

the fact that Solon and Alexander are yet household words 
among us is more attributable to the operation of their 
genius upon intellectual culture, than to those civil institu- 
tions which are now so foreign to our notions, or to kingdoms 
carved out by the sword, which have long vanished from the 
scene. Inasmuch as poets and philosophers of the highest 
eminence are rare phenomena in the history of the world, 
their appearance is deservedly regarded as unerringly indi- 
cating the mental elevation of the people to which they belong. 
To these lofty characteristics of national poesy and tradition- 
ary lore — history suggestive of incident and purpose — art 
in the perfection of refinement, — let us add the gifts of elo- 
quence, wit and a cultivated language adapted to the pur- 
poses of polished society — assuming that these be not 
prostituted to corrupt purposes — and we shall then have a 
complete picture of a really refined and intellectual people, 
and at the same time a just conception of a national litera- 
ture. 

Desirous as I am of delineating literature in its fullest 
extent and according to its influence on social life, I am but 
too well aware of the difficulties with which my undertaking 
is beset. On the one hand being anxious to present the 
whole of my subject in a synoptical form, I shall, occasionally, 
be compelled to touch lightly on matters entitled to a more 
detailed disquisition ; on the other, it will be my duty, in 
the historical prosecution of my plan, now and then to allude 
to topics which may seem unimportant to any but the devoted 
literary student. I am however animated and cheered in 
the hope of successfully executing my task by the conviction 
that an intimate connexion, of many years standing, with 
some of the most various and important minutiae of letters, 
has at any rate created within me a certain fitness. The 
domains of literature are indeed so spacious that few who 
know their extent will claim to have traversed them all. 
The elaborate nature of my researches in many of its choicest 
fields, extending over a considerable portion of my life, may, 
not unreasonably, induce me to think that I have at last 
arrived at a somewhat complete and regular digest of the 
whole subject : it certainly enables me to form a more mature 
judgment of what is merely preparatory, and what actually 



GEEEKS ANT) EOMANS. 11 

arrives at a result, and enables me to discriminate between 
that which is valuable ouly to the philosopher, and that which 
possesses intrinsic merit, worthy of the attention and admi- 
ration of the world. 

Our mental culture is so thoroughly founded on the 
system of the Ancients, that it is next to impossible 
to treat of literature without mention of the Greeks 
and Romans, by way of introduction and as a fair start- 
ing-point. I, at least, should find it difficult to sketch my 
views of letters generally, and more especially of modern 
times, did I not take a previous glance at the salient fea- 
tures of the literary history of past ages. For all pur- 
poses of comparison the example of the Greeks displays the 
ennobling influence of a happily developed literature in the 
most emphatic manner ; whilst the fatal effects of eloquence 
degraded into sophistry are nowhere else so obviously ap- 
parent. This prefatory survey will be made in the most 
succinct manner possible. In the first place I purpose con- 
sidering the collective literature of Greece and Rome gene- 
rally — •those two nations to whom, jointly, we owe the rich 
inheritance of our intellectual culture. In terms equally 
brief I shall then proceed to enquire to what extent in Greek 
and Eoman times, as well as later, Europe stood indebted 
to Oriental nations in reference to the advancement of the 
human mind. It will be said that the older monuments 
of Asiatic genius ought chronologically to precede ; but 
as my primary object is to present a picture of Euro- 
pean culture, and especially to point to the influence of 
literature on life, it will be more convenient to adduce Oriental 
modes of thought and systems of philosophy in such a form 
as shall serve to illustrate its effects on the habits of the 
European mind. Attention will then also be directed to our 
own primeval history, our northern mythology, with the 
poetry of the feudal ages thence derived, a period in which — 
during the Crusades — Europe once more came into fruitful 
contact with the East. The subsequent pages will be devoted 
to times dating from the revival of the arts and sciences, 
and to a comprehensive review of the literature of the 
eighteenth century. And if in the course of the follow- 
ing enquiries I should, occasionally, succeed in presenting 



12 ASIATIC TRADITION". 

the familiar topics of classical literature under a new aspect 
or some interesting connexion, I trust I may the more 
readily find indulgence whenever in speaking of modern times 
I may see fit to advance principles of criticism not in accord- 
ance with the received standard of our own day. 

Or the many inducements, which invite the critic to in- 
augurate the history of literature with a sketch of Grecian 
genius, by no means the least cogent is the consideration 
that the mental culture of the Greeks was pre-eminently self- 
developed and almost wholly independent of the refinement 
of other countries. This cannot be asserted of the Romans 
or any of the later European nations. The Greeks, it is 
true, derived their letters from the Phoenicians, according to 
their own testimony, whilst they copied the elements of ar- 
chitecture and the mathematics, certain philosophic ideas, 
and many of the arts of life, from Egypt or other Asiatic 
nations. Their earlier legends and poesy are in many in- 
stances imbued with the spirit of the oldest traditions of 
Asia. But these are mere scattered fragments and half- 
obliterated traces, such as may be found anywhere, pointing 
to the common origin of the human family and the dawn of 
mental effort. All that the Greeks ever learned or borrowed 
they immediately, with the assistance of home-materials, ap- 
plied themselves to re-casting and adapting. Besides, they 
were unconnected links, crude conceptions : the great en- 
tirety of their mental discipline is of their own formation. 
The Romans, on the contrary, as well as the modern nations 
of Europe, received a literature and an intellectual system 
ready moulded — a complete bequest — from other, older na- 
tions ; the Romans from the Greeks, the moderns from 
them both and from the East ; which having, with more or 
less of energy and skill, framed to suit their own exigencies, 
they appropriated bodily. 

Here and there, as has been remarked, the veins of Asiatic 
tradition might be seen in the structure of the Grecian 
system, though they were more numerous and more inti- 
mately connected with the trunk than a mere cursory glance 
revealed. The Greeks themselves were all but unconscious 
of this their Eastern relationship. If at any time they 



THE EAELY GEEEKS. 13 

chanced to come upon a solitary clue to their earliest home 
and origin, they -were lost in amazement at the novelty : or, 
with characteristic vivacity, they became entangled in laby- 
rinthine mazes of speculation. In a vain search for further 
traces of this flickering light they lost the beautiful harmony, 
the charming simplicity of Hellenic life and sentiment. 
Their acquaintance with the East was of far too limited a 
kind to admit of their penetrating to the actual point at 
which the history of mankind commences : they were unable 
to discover the great source from which all human effort 
sprung, or to trace the many winding ramifications in the 
pedigree of human life. It has been reserved for us, by 
means of an accession of knowledge of both countries and 
idioms, to reconcile Grecian art and legend with their Asiatic 
origin : and without sacrificing that beautiful simplicity 
which is the characteristic of Grecian culture. 

And here it may be proper to make the following remarks 
concerning the earliest ages of the Greeks. On the disper- 
sion of the primitive stock of mankind through their arro- 
gance and internal dissensions, the scattered branches that 
appear in the most ancient histories as so many isolated 
nations, continued to assume those distinctions of caste and 
station which, previous to their dispersion, had formed con- 
stituent elements in the most remote ages of social union. 
Thus the Egyptians were essentially a sacerdotal people, 
although other classes, divided into castes, existed among 
them : simply because every thing emanated from the 
priestly office, and the influence of the priestly character 
greatly preponderated. This is likewise the case with the 
Indians : whilst, under different circumstances, the Hebrews, 
too, present a picture of perfect theocracy : I need scarcely 
call attention to like institutions of a sacerdotal character 
prevalent among the Etruscans in the AVest. Even in the 
earlier stages of Eoman history, the Etruscan ground-work of 
a sacerdotal government will not fail to strike the observer, 
only that here affairs took a different turn, owing to the 
concentration of sacerdotal, judicial, and military power in 
the hands of the patricians. Other nations issuing from the 
same scattered family group, who subsequently attained to 
extensive dominion and powerful sway, are to be charac- 



14 PELASGIANS. 

terized as warrior people, in reference to the predominance 
of the martial element and the aristocracy of caste. Under 
this head, the Medes and Persians claim the foremost place, 
and, next in degree the GermaDic tribes, who, though ap- 
pearing late on the scene of action, faithfully retained 
the original type. In the next rank to these come 
the Greeks, or, at least, they incline, upon the whole, 
to this division. They present themselves, however, in a 
mixed character, having at first adhered to the sacerdotal, 
and then exchanged it for the military form of government — 
alternating between the two, so as to give rise to the sup- 
position that they were originally descended from both 
these elements. The heroic age of the Greeks was doubtless 
preceded by times of priestly administration : and in this, 
as a general conclusion, all reliable mythologists and histo- 
rians agree, even when differing as to particulars. By 
common consent we may pronounce the serious Pelasgians 
to have been the predecessors of the light-hearted Hellenes. 
It is just possible that the Pelasgians, as their name seems 
to indicate,* were only the elder branches of the same or 
a kindred group : but their entire mode of life, as well as all 
the arrangements of Hellenic society, then resembled in a 
much greater degree the Egyptian or even the Etruscan sacer- 
dotal forms, than they did in the later heroic age of Homer. 
The allegorical doctrines inculcated by the priesthood of 
this ancient Pelasgian period were embodied in the mysteries 
of a later age, and celebrated in the numbers of a peculiar 
order of bards. Tradition partakes somewhat of the signi- 
ficancy of History, when in commemorating the cycle of the 
elder poets, long antecedent to the heroic Trojan legends and 
the Homeric poems, it commences with Orpheus, who was 
not of Hellenic descent, but belongs exclusively to the sacer- 
dotal era and symbolical mythology. It is curious to note 
how soon the strict bonds of Pelasgian priesthood were com- 
pletely shaken off by the warlike and merry-hearted throng 



* TleXavyoi may have been an older, irregular form of TraXatoi : but 
even in its most natural derivation from irtXac, as compared with TreXaartjg 
and 7re\aTt}g, the term seems purely to imply the earliest settlers in the 
territory. 



PEESIAN WAE. 15 

of Hellenic lieroes ; wliilst the rule of the great hero-families 
at a subsequent period of nourishing commerce, when mighty- 
cities studded the maritime homes of the Greeks, was largely 
curtailed of its dimensions, until, at last, it came to live in 
the bright reminiscences of minstrelsy rather than in any 
vestiges of a political reality. These changes were of the 
utmost importance to the whole development of Grecian art. 
Since this very emancipation from the thraldom of Oriental 
priestcraft, this freedom from the all-absorbing influence of 
Roman polity, imparted to the artistic, poetic and philosophic 
genius of Greece, indeed spread through her whole literature, 
that spirit which formed its proudest boast. Equally inde- 
pendent of the state and of the hierarchy, for the first time 
in historic annals, the Schools are seen to step forth, in all 
their manifold ramifications and gradations, as a distinct and 
united power, such as has hardly been equalled at any subse- 
quent period. 

If we turn from this remote and, comparatively, ob- 
scure period, to times when Grecian renown had become 
universal, we find three principal events filling up the pages 
of her history, and constituting an epoch in her intellectual 
progress. They are, first, the Persian war, when united 
Greece hurled back the countless hordes of Asia that threat- 
ened her independent existence. Then, the war of Pelopon- 
nesus, that dreadful civil struggle maintained through 
twenty-seven long years between Athens and the Dorian 
tribes, and in which the political power of Greece was self- 
destroyed. And, last, the victories of Alexander, whereby 
the activity and genius of the Greeks were scattered over a 
great part of Asia, the prolific seed-corn of the future. 
In very truth, it fertilized the soil : causing many useful 
fruits, with, here and there, a noxious weed, to spring up : 
resulting in a novel Graeco-Asiatic product, a medium of 
connexion between Asia and Europe, the influence of which 
has been sensibly felt down to our own day. 

Had the Greeks been unsuccessful in the first defence of 
their liberties against the arms of Persia, had Greece been 
annexed, as a conquered province, to the empire of the 
great king, they would have occupied a very different posi- 
tion in tue history of the human mind from that which 



16 SOLON. 

they now fill. At best, they would have remained on the 
self-same step of cultivation on which the Persians found 
them ; they would, most probably, have sunk lower in the 
scale, and, gradually, have lost many of the characteristics of 
a civilized community. They would always have continued 
to be a sprightly, animated people, possessed of a fair amount 
of polished intelligence. Like other cultivated nations sub- 
dued by the Persian sword and incorporated into the empire 
of their conquerors, as, for instance, the Egyptians, He- 
brews, Phoenicians, they would have been permitted to retain 
their language and writers, and, partially, their manners and 
customs ; for the Persian rule save in a few exceptional in- 
stances, was, on the whole, mild, and perhaps the most 
generous of all the great empires. But the soaring flights 
of art and genius to which Greece attained after the suc- 
cessful issue of her glorious conflicts would never have been 
achieved had she lost her freedom. 

The brilliant days of Greece, the most flourishing period 
of her mental development, may be comprised within the 
limits of about three centuries — from Solon to Alexander. 

With Solon, then commences an entirely new epoch, even 
in the literature of Greece. Not only does the perfect 
development of lyric and the dawn of dramatic poetry fall 
within this period ; but a number of didactic poets began 
to shew signs of awakened energy. The gnomic collections 
of Theognis and even of Solon present us with ingenious 
sayings graphically descriptive of social usages : aphorisms 
congenial to the tastes of most nations at a like stage of 
culture : being metrically framed, as best suited to the 
character of gnomic composition. Somewhere about the 
same period arose Thales, the founder of Grecian philosophy, 
and prose threw off" the iron fetters of a rigorous poetic 
form. Prose writing first developed itself among the older 
Ionic philosophers of his school, in simple sentences contain- 
ing ideas acutely and sometimes allegorically expressed : in 
aphorisms or views of nature, lucid but deep drawn, such as 
we yet possess sketched by the father of therapeutic art. The 
intellectual freedom which Solon promoted and rendered en- 
during, as well as the general diffusion of public education — a 
measure also originating in him — among the higher classes of 



ALEXANDER, DEMOSTHENES, AND SOLON. 17 

her citizens, greatly contributed to elevate Athens to the 
lofty distinction she enjoyed in the sequel — that of becoming 
the focus from which all Grecian culture radiated. 

The reign of Alexander terminated this brilliant epoch. 
Demosthenes, who died only one year later than the con- 
queror, did not survive the extinction of his country's great- 
ness. He was the last great writer of the Greeks who 
influenced them as a nation. They, indeed, continued to be 
a polished, intellectual people. In philosophy and learning 
they made probably greater advances under the Ptolemies in 
Egypt than in the beautiful land of their forefathers. But 
their national character was obliterated, and with their free- 
dom they lost alike their inventive power and mental ele- 
vation. 

"Within so brief a period is comprised that marvellous 
affluence of mental creations and achievements, which down 
to our own times has made this people the object of uni- 
versal admiration ! A great and ever memorable spectacle, 
unspeakably fruitful in good and in bad results, therefore 
doubly instructive. Only one other example does the history 
of the world afford of a prolific development of awakened 
genius under circumstances somewhat similar. It will be 
considered in the sequel. 

"With Solon commences the actual epoch of the literature 
of the Greeks. Before his time they possessed only so 
much as is common to all happily organized nations in the 
twilight of social culture. Legendary tradition in lieu of 
regular history : songs and poems orally current, and serving 
instead of written books ; martial songs intended to arouse 
patriotic ardour, festive chants hymning the praises of the 
gods, lays of rapturous joy and love, the anger of the bard, 
the plaints of the lovelorn swain, all these the Greeks pos- 
sessed from the remotest times and in the greatest variety. 
But of more importance than the outbursts of the minstrel's 
passion are those narrative songs comprising popular tradi- 
tions : such as the memories of a fabulous past, tales heroic 
and mythological, descriptions of the origin of a particular 
lineage, or of the creation of the world. "With these, too, 
the Greeks, in common with many other nations, were 
abundantly supplied. There is one work, however, — the 
Homeric poems — that towers high above all others in Grecian 



18 THE PISISTEATIPJE, 

antiquity, which still are, and ever will be the objects of in- 
exhaustible admiration. 

The diction, the subject, and the spirit of those poems 
alike reveal their date, and fix it antecedent to Solon by 
some centuries : but in his time they were first collected, 
and partly through his instrumentality they were rescued 
from the insecure fate of oral transmission, carefully digested, 
and arranged in their present order. 

In doing this, Solon and his successors in Athenian admi- 
nistration, Pisistratus and the Pisistratidse, in addition to 
a natural fondness for the poems themselves, were, doubtless, 
actuated by other patriotic motives. So early as this period, 
six hundred years before the Christian era, the independence 
of Greece began to be menaced in Asia Minor : not, indeed, 
by the Persians, but by the sovereigns of Lydia, whose 
dominions, not long after, succumbed to Persian power. 
When the victorious steps of Cyrus advanced further and 
further into Asia Minor, on the defeat of Croesus, no patriot 
of penetrating sagacity could long conceal from himself the 
peril impending over Greece. 

In many other states the inhabitants would seem to have 
been wrapt in fancied security, fatally unconscious of the 
gathering storm that, under Darius and Xerxes, was to burst 
in terrible fury upon the soil of Greece. Athens, however, 
could not fail to have felt early misgivings, connected, as she 
was, with the Asiatic Greeks, both by old family ties and the 
interests of commerce. The revival of olden songs and me- 
mories reminding the people how, of yore, Grecian heroes, 
leagued together to avenge an insult, had in fierce conflict 
wrested Troy from Asiatic hands, was opportunely fitted to 
arouse the national feeling, and animate the country for the 
approaching struggle. No well-authenticated record of such 
an event as the Trojan war has come down to us. The dynasty 
of Agamemnon and of the Atridse is, for the most part, his- 
torical. It is by no means improbable that occasional inter- 
course was maintained between the peninsula and AsiaMinor : 
we know that Pelops— from whom the peninsula derived its 
name — the ancestor of the Atridae, came from thence. 
Again, that the abduction of a princess was likely to result 
in a long and sanguinary warfare is quite in accordance with 
the general spirit and manners of the heroic age, resembling, 



GEEEK TUMULI. 19 

in many particulars, the heroic times of Christianity, and the 
chivalry of the feudal ages. How much soever of the fabulous 
and the allegorical was interwoven with legends relative to 
Helen, thus much is certain, that important memorials of 
the olden time were associated with the vicinity of Troy, 
as is proved by large mounds of earth thrown up in that 
locality, and which were commonly reported to have consti- 
tuted the last resting-place of departed heroes. That these 
Greek tumuli — assigned by tradition to Achilles and Pa- 
troclus, at the sight of which Alexander wept, envying 
Achilles for having found a Homer to immortalize his 
name — existed in the poet's time, appears from several 
passages in the Iliad. It was reserved for the curiosity or 
the wantonness of our own day to desecrate these graves and, 
disturbing the repose of the mighty dead, to scatter abroad 
their ashes and other relics with careless hands. But even 
if the Trojan war was purely a myth, begotten of the min- 
strel's wayward fancy, the purposes of Solon and Pisistratus 
in reviving these poems were still sufficiently served, since 
the events they celebrate were universally credited as being 
of historic origin. 

The relish with which the ancient Greeks appreciated the 
Homeric poems was materially enhanced by patriotic associa- 
tions, whilst we are interested in them chiefly as vivid and 
beautiful representations of heroic life. They are free from 
the charge of narrow views, or adulatory panegyrics exclu- 
sively bestowed on a particular lineage — a charge such as 
may be justly preferred against the old songs of Arabia, or 
those of Ossian. Breathing the spirit of purest freedom, 
their representations of the phenomena of nature and of the 
varieties of human character, evince a sensibility pure and 
universal. A whole world opens out before us as we read 
them, a world of living and moving imagery. The two pro- 
minent figures, Achilles and Ulysses, seem to start from the 
canvass into warm life ; yet they are but characters and ideas 
so general as to be found repeated in nearly all Greek hero 
legends; though never again sketched with so masterly a 
hand, or so exquisitely finished. Achilles, a hero destined to 
exhaust all the delights of mortality whilst still in the 
bloom and pride of youthful vigour, doomed moreover to 
be cut off by tragic fate in the prime of his days, is the 



20 THE HOMERIC POEMS. 

loftier conception of the two: an echo of this chord may- 
be found in the character of many a hero in the legends of 
various lands ; next in beauty to the Grecian, perhaps, 
those of our own northern clime. The legendary tra- 
ditions of heroic times, among the sprightliest nations, are 
overshadowed by elegiac sensibilities, plaints full of ten- 
derness, and sometimes shrouded in sombre grief. As if the 
transition from an age of glorious freedom and heroism had 
impressed succeeding generations with a feeling of dreary 
confinement, or the bard would transfer to the fictions of those 
times exclusively, reminiscences of some pristine state of bliss, 
deep-seated in the bosom of the whole human family. A less 
magnificent, but still richly-attractive form of poetic heroism 
is presented in the person of Ulysses, the roving, travelled 
hero, discreet, and experienced as brave, fitted to undergo 
danger and encounter adventures of every sort. Ample 
scope is thus afforded for pourtraying, in easy flowing style, 
the rare sights and products of foreign lands. In energy 
and pathos, the epics of the north, in brilliant colouring, 
those of the east, as far as our acquaintance extends, may 
compare with, if they do not surpass the Homeric poems. 
But the peculiar distinction of the latter is the amount of 
living truth and clearness blended in harmonious unison 
with an almost infantile simplicity and affluent fancy. The 
narrative, whilst entering into minute detail with all the 
garrulousness of age, never grows tiresome, owing to the 
extreme freshness and grace of imagery ever and anon dexte- 
rously shifted. Character, passion, and dialogue are un- 
folded with dramatic skill, and individual circumstances 
described with almost historical fidelity. From this last 
quality, which completely distinguishes Homer from all other 
— even Grecian — bards, he possibly derives his name. Home- 
ros signifies a surety or witness : and on account of his truth- 
ful accuracy, as a minstrel of the heroic time, he richly de- 
serves this appellation. To us he is, indeed, Ilomeros, a 
surety as well as a witness of the epic ages in their genuine 
state. As for the other meaning, relative to his blindness, 
also involved in the word, it is clearly conjectural, forming 
part of a tissue of inventions respecting the life of one wholly 
unknown to us in his person, and it is undeserving of a mo- 
ment's consideration. "Without the direct testimony of 



THE HOMERIC POEMS. 21 

Milton it would be sufficiently apparent from internal evi- 
dence in his poems, that he saw only with the eye of the 
spirit, and tasted not the exhilarating joyousness of sun- 
light. A melancholy haze broods over the page of Ossian, 
and it may reasonably be inferred that the gloom of night 
shaded the minstrel's brow. But whoever would ascribe the 
composition of the Iliad and Odyssey, the most lucid and 
transparent of all the poems of antiquity, to a blind bard 
must, before pronouncing such a verdict, determine to shut 
his own eyes to every kind of proof and argument. 

In whatever century the Homeric poems originated, they 
transport us into times when the heroic element was fast 
approaching dissolution, or had just expired. Two worlds 
appear to meet in them : the wondrous past, which seemed 
to be never very far removed from the poet's gaze, whilst occa- 
sionally it stood vividly before him ; and the present breath- 
ing world, in the midst of which he lived and moved. This 
blending of the present and past, by means of which the one 
was beautified, the other rendered more intensely real, endows 
those poems with charms peculiarly their own. 

At first kings and heroic races held sway throughout all 
Greece. It is still so in the Homeric world. Soon after, 
regal dignity was nearly everywhere abolished : each city of 
any importance, each independent group, became a republic. 
On the establishment of this new political system, the various 
relations of life gradually grew more prosaic in character. 
Legends dealing with the older heroic time naturally became 
more and more foreign to the tastes of successive generations, 
and, doubtless, it was in a great measure owing to the 
changes in civil polity, that Homer fell into a temporary ob- 
livion, from which Solon and Pisistratus eventually rescued 
him. 

On comparing Homer's works with Indian, Persian, or 
northern, old-German heroic and mythological songs, there 
are two properties which serve as emphatic distinctions of 
the former. Pirst, the harmonious evenness of a serene con- 
templation of life, as also of representation generally, which, 
together with remarkable clear-sightedness, are characteristic 
features of Greek intellect. And then, the rich dramatic de- 
velopment of individual circumstances and objects depicted 
in these poems, in connection with a skilfully interwoven 



22 THE IONIC EHAPSODISTS. 

series of choice episodes. This, again, while it is not a ne- 
cessary ingredient in the structure of epic poesy, is a faculty 
inherent in the spirit of Grecian art. Intimately allied with 
these qualities is the decided prominence of the rhetorical 
element, one in which the innate skill of the Greeks was 
peculiarly fitted to shine. Marked by idiomatic traits de- 
lightfully reflected from life's own mirror, and affording a 
prospective vista of the dawn of young republicanism, this 
rhetoric is totally unlike the meretricious ornaments of later 
poetry. These features, in various degrees of difference, serve 
to identify Homer in contradistinction to all other Bhapso- 
dists of the Ionic school, and the whole body of Greek epic 
poets, — of whom Hesiod may be cited as an exemplar, — and 
confer on him an individuality easily recognized : though, in 
many particulars of epic treatment, the lesser heroic and 
mythological bards resemble both each other and Homer. 
A chaotic legendary confusion, often of gigantic proportions, 
is treated of by Hesiod in a style which the ancients termed 
moderate: inasmuch as it never assumed the form of wild 
and savage strength, or soared into empyrean heights of 
fancy. The Homeric fulness of dramatic development is 
wanting : but, regarded simply as a delineation of manners, 
there may be found in Hesiod's works abundant traces of a 
growing republican spirit destined altogether to supplant the 
old heroic life. 

The Homeric poems, of such important and direct 
consequence to the literature of Greece, and, later, of 
Europe, generally, and so completely the fountain head of 
the collective mental culture of antiquity, seemed to me to 
demand especial historic consideration. It was, besides, my 
aim chiefly to direct attention to inventors, or to the ages 
when art first reached perfection : whole centuries of imita- 
tion or' mere development will receive but cursory notice. 
Thus, I shall pass over the interval that ensued before the 
Persian war, since it is marked only by feeble imitators of 
Homer, or the budding of new forms of art which did not 
burst into flower till long after : of most of the writers we 
possess mere fragmentary remains. The Lyric art, especially, 
developed itself in the most varied forms. The poetry of 
the Greeks issued from the vast ocean of heroic and mythi- 
cal legends as its source and fountain head, and now this sea 



PINDAR AND ^SCHYLUS. 23 

of ancient myths spread itself abroad in innumerable streams, 
greater and smaller, of songs and poems, till it assumed the 
form of dramatic representation, and especially of Tragedy, 
the solemn image of the noblest life, the summit aud highest 
aim of art — designed to give us not only a truthful but a 
fascinating and impressive image of the Divine ; for as in all 
poetry these elements or stages, of the mythical, the lyric, 
and the dramatic, are to be found, though not in the same 
order, on their difference is founded the nature of the three 
different kinds of poetry — or the epic, lyric, and dramatic 
art. 

The Persian war, that memorable epoch in Grecian annals, 
was distinguished in literature by several great poets and 
writers whose works are still extant. Pindar, esteemed by his 
countrymen the loftiest of their minstrels, survived it, and 
during it he suffered the reproach of want of patriotism, and 
of a leaning to the Persians. iEschylus, the oldest of the great 
tragedians, himself a soldier, had fought with distinction in 
some of its glorious battles. Herodotus, somewhat younger, 
was born a few years prior to the tremendous expedition of 
Xerxes : when he read those books of his history which 
more especially commemorate the war of freedom, before 
the assembled Greeks, the mighty achievements of their 
valour were still fresh in the memory of the rejoicing victors. 
The odium under which Pindar lay is easily explicable, 
for his poems contain manifest indications of his dislike of 
democracy, — which had at that time caused many outbursts 
of popular violence in Greece, and was likely to lead to still 
graver disruptions, — and of his preference for monarchy, and 
the Dorian preponderance of aristocracy. But this consti- 
tutional form — monarchy and aristocracy — was nowhere in 
antiquity exhibited with so mild a lustre as in the Persian 
empire, the spirit of which, notwithstanding individual abuse 
of power, tended, on the whole, to promote noble and digni- 
fied views and practices. 

The works of Pindar are the more valuable since they 
make up for the loss of many other Doric compositions. 
That which we are accustomed to call by the general name 
of Greek literature, that is to say, the extant productions of 
the great writers, is confined to those of Ionia and Athens, 
and, at a later period, of Alexandria. But, at the same time 



24 THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 

that poetry, history, and philosophy nourished in the states of 
Ionia and Athens, the Dorians, a branch differing materially 
from the Ionic stock in manners, in language, as well as in 
thought, were in possession of an original and distinct litera- 
ture: poets of every kind, a peculiar dramatic form, and, sub- 
sequently to Pythagoras, philosophic and other writers. Now 
that all these memorials have perished, we have in Pindar at 
least a general picture of Doric customs fresh from the poetls 
own conceptions. 

The artificial enthusiasm, and the affected obscurity 
which his imitators chose to style Pindaric, are abso- 
lutely foreign to that great poet. On the contrary, placid 
dignity and cheerful serenity are characteristic traits of his 
genius. If there be any obscurity at all it is relative, being, 
probably, an allusion to some person or thing not known to 
us now, but perfectly intelligible to his contemporaries. 
"Whilst hymning the praises of the victor in the Olympian 
games, he proceeds to celebrate the heroic line from which 
he is sprung, the city that gave him birth, or the gods in 
whose honour the games were instituted : this, as will easily 
be seen, is, occasionally, productive of violent transitions. 
Festive songs like these cannot, on the whole, be strictly 
termed lyrical, at least they are not so in the sense we 
usually attach to that word. They are heroic or epic poems 
for the occasion, which, accompanied by music and the dance, 
were not simply sung, but enacted. Pindar's great charac- 
teristic is the rare beauty and melodious softness of his 
language, as also the disposition to regard all objects from the 
most graceful point of view. How, in times of security, noble 
rulers of prosperous states, amid games of skill and chivalry, 
passed their days unclouded by a care in the happy society 
of congenial friends and inspired minstrels, and revelled in 
the reminiscences of a glorious ancestry : all this the poet 
sings in matchless verse. Tuneful numbers, equally charm- 
ing with those in which victors and Doric nobles are repre- 
sented, record the glories of the remotest times, and of the 
gods themselves. 

iEschylus is a poet of a very different kind, and animated 
by feelings altogether dissimilar. The warlike spirit of the 
soldier, inspired by Liberty herself, which breathes through 
his works is, probably, a reflection of the sentiment prevalent 



THE POET .ESCHYLTJS. 25 

in haughty Athens during the great struggle. As a creative 
poet he had still to contend with a form that was only be- 
ginning to be moulded : that great Tragic form, peculiar to 
the Greeks, which JEschylus was the first to conceive and cast 
without being enabled to perfect it. He excelled in delinea- 
ting the terrible and tragic passions. "With the depth of the 
poet, he combined the severe earnestness of the profound 
thinker. To this last term he had, indeed, the justest claims : 
the very charge that has been brought against him of betray- 
ing the mysteries or secret doctrines of theEleusinian society, 
in his poems, proves his anxious longings after truth. From 
his genius Greek mythology took a configuration altogether 
new. He does not only represent isolated tragic events — one 
uniformly tragic view of life, generally, pervades his whole 
works. The downfall of the older gods and Titans, and how 
their lofty lineage was displaced by a younger, more cunning, 
and less worthy race, is the oft-repeated story of his plaints : 
the original elevation and grandeur of nature and of man de- 
generating, in process of time, into imbecility and meanness. 
Yet, here and there, as in his Prometheus, he depicts giant 
strength rising superior to decay from amidst the crumbling 
fabric of a tottering world. There is in this a more than 
poetical sublimity. 

In the two poets last under consideration, Pindar and 
iEschylus, a peculiarly oriental element is manifest, both in 
the bolder nature of their imagery, and their more abrupt 
turns of thought — but this element lies deeper than the mere 
external form or expression. Over the festive songs of 
Pindar, together with an Asiatic delicacy and gentleness, 
there is shed the lustre of a priestly dignity, a hallowed 
fragrance, as it were, harmoniously blending with the feel- 
ings of a natural piety, and a divine simplicity. Through- 
out the whole of iEschylus, gigantic rugged forms of hoary 
antiquity tower in massive outline. As Pindar may be 
said to live wholly in harmony, so .ZEschylus stands in 
perpetual conflict between ancient Chaos and the idea 
of Law and Harmony : on this very account, the first of 
really Tragic poets is of such significant import to the con- 
sideration of the whole of Grecian poetry. On rightly com- 
prehending all the aspirations and ruling ideas it embodies, 
we shall find the older form of poesy placed midway between 



26 HERODOTUS THE FATHER OE HISTORY. 

the savage innate strength and depth, of original paganism, 
and the later rational progress of civilization : between the 
first and second ages of the world, forcibly indicating a period 
of transition from the one to the other. Divided between 
Titanic power of will, the element of primeval times, with 
the recollections of which fancy was yet stored — and the 
idea of law and order, as the principle of harmonious feeling. 
This discordance of the ancient world is most distinctly visible 
in JEschylus. Next to the desire after harmony, to which I 
have alluded, the memories of a Titanic past, flowing from 
traditionary song, occupy the foremost place in ancient 
poesy : whilst the modern, Christian poet, having no actual 
source of legendary inspiration, fixes his gaze on the future 
rather than the past, as far as it can be attained by a presen- 
timent of the Divine in symbolical representations. 

Herodotus, who has left us a record of the Persian war is 
called the father of history. His work may be styled a 
faithful and detailed chronicle of all events which stood in 
immediate relation to the narrator and were of importance 
to himself : in the course of it, he takes occasion to insert all 
he knows of the world and its history ; or a journal of travels, 
since he is fond of relating, by way of episode,whafcever he saw 
in foreign countries more than other Greeks, and his powers 
of observation were both keen and circumstantial. On account 
of the number of his episodes and the free, poetical treat- 
ment of his subject, his work has been compared with the 
old hero-epics. But fidelity, clearness, and simplicity, toge- 
ther with artless grace of narrative, are just the qualities 
calculated to render descriptive history complete, and which 
would be considered necessary, nay indispensable, if they 
were not so rare. He is the Homer of history, the Homer of 
prose, the fullest and most copious of all mythologists, and 
sets clearly before our view the whole epic of ancient ethno- 
graphy —as far as that science was known to the Greeks of 
the period — by means of nine rhapsodies in which is in- 
terwoven a rich collection of charming episodes. The prose 
narrative of mythographers, as a whole, still rang with the 
tone and manner of the Epos, and in Herodotus, its great 
master, from the grace and fulness which characterize 
it, the Homeric origin of the epic form of history is most 
clearly seen. By slow and difficult process the prose of the 



SOPHOCLES. 27 

Greeks disengaged itself from the poetic root, until it, at 
last, assumed a shape of its own. Even in philosophy, some 
writers after Xenophanes turned aside from pristine Ionic 
prose couched in aphorisms, to a metrical vehicle of thought : 
as in those didactic poems treating of the nature of things, 
the contents of which are strangely opposed to the essence 
of poetry, and can only borrow her garb for the purposes of 
external adornment. 

With these three great authors whom I have noticed, 
others of no less dignity are linked at a later date. The first 
of these is Sophocles. In moral, as in physical nature there 
is a period of bloom, a culminating point of ripe perfection, 
which reveals itself in completeness of form and diction. Of 
this point Sophocles is the fullest representative, nor in tragic 
art alone but in the whole of Greek poetry and intellectual 
progress. In him there is an additional grace to that which 
we remark in other great poets and writers, and which con- 
stitutes them models of art, of form, or of style. The ex- 
quisite beauty of his compositions mirrors the inner harmony 
and beauty of his soul. It is clearly evident from many 
passages in ancient poets that they had no proper knowledge 
or correct ideas of God. But though they were destitute 
of this knowledge, inasmuch as He was not revealed to them 
and their age, yet it would be unjust to deny the best and 
greatest of their number a deep-seated and often admirable 
presentiment of the Divine. In none other do I find this at- 
tribute so decided as in Sophocles. It is, indeed, every- 
where the destiny and course of poetry to commence with 
the wonderful and the sublime, with the mighty forms of 
heroes and gods. In the sequel, she lowers the elevation of 
her flight, approaches nearer to the earth, and falls at last 
into the tract of ordinary life, where all traces of her disap- 
pear. The middle region is the happiest for poetic purpose : 
in which heroic grandeur still survives, artless and unaffected, 
coupled with representations of deity, though no longer 
towering in giant-size, terrible as well as awful, but ad- 
dressed to human sympathies, mild and tender. Such is 
precisely the character of Sophocles. The peculiar artistic 
form of Grecian tragedy, which he perfected, will often come 
under subsequent notice : more especially, when I proceed 
to examine the attempts of other nations — successful or 



28 ETJEIPIDES. 

otherwise — to imitate and appropriate this lofty form of 
Greek poesy. 

The character of Greek civilization, and of the most 
splendid period of the second age of the world, as I have 
before remarked, mainly rests both in art and in life itself, 
on lucid views of harmony and a social development. The 
artistic clearness, joined to the simplicity of a mind richly 
endowed by nature, is visible throughout Homer; but 
gentlest harmonious aspiration, though it is a prominent 
feature of Pindar's muse, is perfected only in Sophocles. 
Whilst the fancy of the Greeks, as of all nations at that 
period, was gradually weakened, till it sank, at last, from the 
sidereal system of primitive nature down into material life, 
pagan mythology itself — in this poet of harmony — though 
still sensuous, appears as the spiritual transfiguration of a 
feeling which anticipated the higher meaning of all divine 
mysteries. 

Sophocles was succeeded in art, but not in sentiment or 
feeling, by Euripides, who, however, belongs to a totally dif- 
ferent generation. He was as much of an orator as a poet, 
and according to the favourable and unfavourable views taken 
of him, he may be termed a philosopher or a sophist; in 
this school he had been fashioned, and had acquired many an 
ornament unsuitable to poetry. His enemy and implacable 
persecutor, Aristophanes, does not forget constantly to re- 
mind him of this. Bat previous to entering upon this brief 
description of Euripides, as also of some other writers who 
flourished at the time of Greek degeneracy, it will be conve- 
nient to speak of the Sophists ; and shew how they suc- 
ceeded, in the commencement of the civil war and the dis- 
memberment of states, to extend their deadly influence to 
every part of Greece, and to paralyze her intellectual life, 
until Socrates took up the gauntlet against them, exerted him- 
self to lead back the sophisticated Grecian spirit, as far as 
possible, to truth, and founded the School from which Plato 
issued. 



29 



LECTUEE II. 

Lateb Geeek Liteeatttee. — Sophistry and Philosophy, 
— Alexakdeinian Peeiod. 

In my first lecture, I endeavoured, briefly, to sketch the 
picture of Grecian genius, when flourishing in all its power 
and glory. I must now turn to the darker side of the pic- 
ture, and exhibit that general degeneracy which soon followed 
with incredible rapidity, and after morals were corrupted 
and governments were destroyed, prostrated also, by a de- 
ceitful sophistry, the artistic power and genius of the Greeks. 

Thucydides is the first great writer who represents, and 
attempts to explain with historic penetration, this total dis- 
organization in the management of public affairs, and in the 
morals of society generally. His lofty style, deep reflective- 
ness, and earnest feeling, fully entitle him to rank with the 
leading Greek authors. His history is truly a master- 
piece of representative art : as such it was considered even 
by ancient critics, and likened to a tragedy, not poetic but 
historical. Well, indeed, might that great civil war, and 
the decline of his once renowned and flourishing native coun- 
try, appear to the historian himself a tragedy of appalling 
pathos. Eor in its ultimate consequences, as we are enabled to 
review them, but which did not then appear so clearly, this 
terrible event involved the history of the decline of collective 
Greece ! Thucydides originated the artistic form of history 
peculiar to the Greeks, and in the structure of his work 
he has never been approached by later writers. The qualities 
characterizing this peculiar artistic form consist in the skill 
which is displayed in interweaving, in the web of history, ela- 
borate political harangues, developing the various motives 
and views by which each of the contending factions was 
actuated : as also in a vivid and poetically detailed sketch 
of battles and other important events of constant recurrence 
in the page of history : and, again, in dignified flow of style, 
relieved by the chastest ornaments. Under similar political 
conditions, and with a like preponderating oratory, of all 
species of Greek art, this is the one which the Eomans 



30 THUCYDIDES. 

could embody in their literature with the greatest facility 
and success. It is by no means equally suitable to the 
genius of our later European efforts : as will be seen 
from an examination of instances of imitation. For cir- 
cumstances are altogether chauged : the art of eloquence 
no longer possesses an influence so decisive and often in- 
jurious. "With such an immense accumulation of facts, 
we now require, not so much poetical descriptions of 
battles and public occurrences generally, as brief accounts, 
effectively given, and clearly shewing what happened and 
wherefore. Perspicuous brevity like this — such as the 
unadorned, luminous simplicity of Herodotus — better cor- 
respond with our present wants in the department of history, 
than the lofty grandeur of form which Thucydides instituted, 
and in which, if not absolutely perfect, he is still to be re- 
garded as the first of Greek writers. To entitle him to per- 
fection, nothing is wanting in the arrangement or disposal 
of his subject, which is, throughout, grand, excellent, and as 
the ancients said of his work, worthy of comparison with the 
sublimity of historic tragedy : but his style is rugged, harsh, 
and at times, obscure. Whether a complete revision of the 
work, as a whole, had not been made, as a learned critic sug- 
gests : or, whether it was owing to the age, which witnessed 
the birth of prose, and hence the difficulty experienced by the 
historian, when, having conceived the design of so elevated a 
style, he endeavoured to efface the traces of laborious toil, and 
strained exertion : but, if neither of these explanations should 
prove satisfactory, it maybe conjectured that the author pur- 
posely conveyed sentiments, — though cast in the mould of 
highest art, — in a diction both rude and repulsive as best 
suited to the dark contents of his tragic description. He had 
to treat of that terrible catastrophe, the decline and fall of 
his country, and he wrote not for the passing hour, but, as 
he himself expresses it in the commencement of his history, 
he meant to construct "a possession for all time/'* 

But History generally, which, from its nature, occupies a 
position between rhetorical representation and critical en- 
quiry, in both the kinds developed by the Greeks in their 
first great period, inclines more to the poetic and artistic 
element than to a philosophic comprehension of different 



HIS ARTISTIC STYLE. 31 

ages of universal development, scientifically arranged, and 
conformable to the genius of modern times. In mytho- 
graphers and in Herodotus, this species of composition is 
linked to the epic treatment of the older rhapsodists : whilst 
in later, more artistic, political histories, it emulates the 
drama, till in Thucydides it fairly challenges comparison 
with Tragedy. 

If Thucydides clearly sets before us and explains the 
disorganization of all the states and institutions of Greece, 
with the causes of the same ; Aristophanes on the other 
hand depicts the degraded condition into which Athenian 
and Grecian manners, generally, had sunk, with a vigour 
almost incredible, and such as no historical work, and 
no other memorial whatever could pourtray so distinctly. 
As a faithful representation of the customs and manners 
of antiquity, the value of his works is now universally ac- 
knowledged and indubitable. If we would judge of him as a 
writer and poet, we must, of course, go back in imagination 
to the age in which he lived. In some nations and epochs 
of modern Europe, literature, poetry, and the efforts of the 
mind, generally, have been charged with an almost exclusive 
regard for the applause of the upper classes, and, more especi- 
ally, of the softer sex. Among the writers themselves, be- 
longing to the times thus inculpated, there have not been 
wanting those who complained of the tendency of so much 
misplaced ornament, and undue refinement, to limit, if not 
enervate, the mental powers. There may have been ground 
for this complaint ; ancient literature, on the other hand, 
is justly subjected to the reproach of being too exclu- 
sively masculine, and thus presenting, in some portions of 
its history, a ruder picture than might, on the whole, have 
been expected from its intellectual development and refine- 
ment. In the earliest times, as they are brought before our 
contemplation by the Homeric poems, the condition of the 
softer sex was worthier, more free, and favourable to the pro- 
motion of social improvement. Afterwards, the Greeks conti- 
nued, more and more, to imitate the Asiatics in their practice 
of isolating, confining, and oppressing the female sex. The 
very institutions of republicanism, filling up, as they did, 
the life and soul of citizens with civic affairs, with genuine 
or pseudo-patriotic feelings, with the rancour of political 



32 THE DIGNITY OF WOMAN. 

parties, with some one of which every body sided, were 
adverse to the influence and condition of that sex. These 
circumstances were not, indeed, every where the same : nay, 
considerable difference obtained in the customs and political 
enactments of the several Greek states in this particular as 
in many others. In Sparta, and throughout the Doric con- 
federacy, as also under the new social regulations introduced 
by the Pythagoreans, the natural rights and dignity of 
woman were far more respected. But, upon the whole, 
Greece very closely imitated the Asiatic customs of female 
separation and isolation, and the unfavourable results are 
but too apparent in the whole extent of her literature. 
Therefore, we miss, eveu in her noblest productions — though 
distinguished by almost every other excellence and advantage 
— the delicate bloom of feminine tenderness. This, whilst it 
should not be common to every kind of writing, and must 
never be far-fetched, is painfully missed, when we have a 
right to expect it, and its opposite strikes us with greater 
disgust. In consequence of this want, ancient, and particu- 
larly Greek, writers, did not, in individual cases, come up to 
a standard of perfection proportioned to the general civiliza- 
tion and happy intellectual development that formed their na- 
tional characteristics. A complete deterioration of manners 
and unnatural depravity attended the degradation of the 
sex, and thus, abundantly avenged their unjust oppression. 
The beauty of the fairest and loftiest productions of the 
ancients is marred, in our eyes, by reminding us, ever and 
anon, of a blemish in their social arrangements so flagrant 
and so perverse. 

In treating of the degeneracy of Grecian manners, and of 
the writer who most graphically and forcibly depicts it 
— Aristophanes — we could not well avoid allusion to this 
universal deficiency. But, being once made thoroughly aware 
of the imperfection, with which no one writer ought, indivi- 
dually, to stand charged, since it pervaded the entire spirit 
of ancient civilization, both in manners and literature, wt 
must not, on that account, withhold our meed of praise in 
considering the other great qualities to be remarked in such 
writers, so necessary to the whole development of art and 
culture. Thus, notwithstanding all deficiencies, Aristo- 
phanes is to be viewed in the positive light of a great poet. 



OLD COMEDY. 



33 



It is true "his species and form of composition, if, indeed, it 
can be called an actual and regular form, cannot be adopted 
by ourselves. The old Comedy, from the circumstances of its 
earliest origin, is connected with the worship of nature. In 
the celebration of festivals dedicated to Bacchus, and other 
jovial deities, every kind of merriment, including the most 
licentious freedom of humour, was not merely permitted, but 
regarded as a religious act. It cannot be denied that Fancy 
— in its essential nature admitting of no limits — is the 
poet's peculiar inheritance, aud thus the self-same impulse 
to give the slackened rein to her impetuous course, to disre- 
gard all the restraints of laws and customs, has stirred in 
the bosoms of bards in other times and under altered cir- 
cumstances. The genuine poet, when, for a brief season, he 
has demanded this time-hallowed privilege of Saturnalian 
licence, for undisturbed play of fancy, has ever felt that, if he 
would make good his claim to an equality of birthright, he 
must display not only a prodigality of inventive genius, but 
the highest splendour of finished versification : thereby 
proving that no prosaic wantonness, no personal motive 
prompted him, but that he was inspired by poetic daring. 
This is entirely applicable to Aristophanes. In diction and 
poesy, he is not merely of acknowledged excellence, but may 
challenge comparison with the first poets that Greece ever 
produced. In many serious passages, which Athenian 
popular comedy, owing to the irregularity and variety of 
structure, did not exclude, he proves himself to be a true 
poet, who might have become eminently successful in the 
more earnest and lofty efforts of Art, had he chosen to at- 
tempt them. However mixed the contents of his dramas, 
however little a considerable portion of his witticisms is cal- 
culated to satisfy or please our modern tastes, yet, after every 
deduction on the score of offensive matter, there remains a 
lavish exuberance of wit, inventive fancy, and poetic bold- 
ness. A licence like that of Aristophanes, could, of course, 
only be indulged in so unbridled a democracy as Athens at 
that period. But that Comedy, whose original function 
was temporary diversion of the assembled populace, was sus- 
ceptible of so rich a poetic decoration, or, perhaps, needed it, 
gives us a high idea, if not of their culture, strictly so 
called, yet of the lively popular spirit and animated feeling 

D 



34 ABISTOPHANES. 

of that wonderful city, which became at once the rendezvous 
and focus of Grecian oratory and refinement, as of Grecian im- 
morality and corruption. Aristophanes is the most material of 
ancient poets: nevertheless great, and in his department, clas- 
sic, from his copious imagination and keen poetic invention. 
He may, therefore, by all means, in this capacity, rank with 
the great Tragic writers : and if, in their respective compo- 
sitions, Aeschylus reveals to us a lofty grandeur of spirit, 
Sophocles a beautiful harmony of soul, both in the highest 
degree : the great Comic poet shews that, even in the depths 
of sensuous matter, and in the treatment of subjects most 
material in kind, true poesy can exert itself with wanton 
power on the contrasts of real life and lavish upon them all 
her riches. This same fulness of genial invention and poetic 
wit is more akin to the lofty style of the serious dramatists, 
and in dithyrambic strength congenial to their spirit, than 
the rhetorical effeminacy and sentimental poverty of Euripi- 
des, as has often been allowed by competent critics of ancient 
poetry. The material subject of high Comedy is but the bearer 
of poetic wit, supporting the whole weight of its fulness : 
whilst this wit, if it be of the really poetic, the Aristophanic 
quality, contains the veritable and peculiar essence of poetry, 
expressed in re-action against the resisting power of gross 
reality. This will suffice to place Aristophanes, if not, in- 
deed, as an exemplar of imitation, for which he is unfitted, 
at least in his true light as a poet. If we consider the pur- 
poses to which, both as a man and a citizen, he applied the 
poetic licence sanctioned by the customs of antiquity and 
the institutions of his country, even here much may be said 
in his justification, and not a little to conciliate our 
esteem. The most advantageous light in which he is to be 
viewed is that of a patriot, in which capacity he takes cog- 
nizance of all deficiencies of the state, and mercilessly at- 
tacks mischievous demagogues with a courage at once 
dangerous, meritorious, and rare in the midst of a democracy, 
and in times of. anarchy. When, in accordance with in- 
veterate enmity and customary parody which comic writers 
practised on the Tragedians, he scourges Euripides with in- 
defatigable and unrelenting fury, it is striking to observe how 
materially his tone changes in alluding to Aeschylus, and, 
his own contemporary, Sophocles, of whom he speaks not 



SPREAD OF SOPHISTRY. 35 

merely with evident lenity, but with deep veneration. He 
has been charged with the grave offence of reviling and 
representing in odious colours the most virtuous and wise of 
his fellow-citizens — Socrates ; perhaps, however, it was not 
owing to mere poetic caprice, but that he seized one of the 
most illustrious names for the purpose of deriding and ren- 
dering execrable, under cover of it, the Sophists — a tribe 
than whom none more richly deserved such treatment. Pos- 
sibly, without intending it, the poet confounded the philoso- 
pher, in his search after truth at first entering their schools, 
with the Sophists themselves, whose tenets Socrates studied 
only to refute them, and whose society he frequented only 
until he learnt the emptiness of their doctrines to which he 
gave battle, while he sought to lead the Greeks back to 
truth by an entirely novel path. 

Not only were the polity and social customs of the Greeks, 
but also rhetoric, and all the arts influenced by speech, as 
also thought generally, poisoned and thoroughly prostrated 
by Sophistry, till Socrates opposed a barrier to the flowing 
tide, arresting, as far as he could, the ravages of its onward 
progress. This zealous friend and explorer of truth, a 
citizen of Athens, living in the simplest and most retired 
manner, and operating only on a small circle of select scho- 
lars and like-minded friends, impressed the intellectual cul- 
ture of the Greeks by means of an influence perhaps greater 
than that of Solon the legislator, who preceded, and of Alex- 
ander the conqueror, who followed, him. But, in order fully 
to comprehend the importance of this memorable struggle in 
which Socrates was engaged, the ensuing regeneration of 
philosophy, and the fresh impulse it gave to the genius of 
Greece, it will be necessary to take a retrospective glance 
at the earlier philosophy and popular belief of that country, 
and to examine into the origin of the Sophistry, which 
sprang up between the two. 

However distinguished the pre-eminence of the Greeks in 
all that appertains to art and culture, and appears on the sur- 
face of human character, it cannot be denied that the fun- 
damental views they entertained of the nature and properties 
of things, of the origin of the world, and the destiny of 
man, as well as of the essence of divinity, were, upon the 
whole, very material and unsatisfactory, if not utterly ob- 

c 2 



36 OPINIONS OE THE OLDER GRECIAN" PHILOSOPHERS. 

jectionable. The older Grecian philosophers were them- 
selves of this opinion, inasmuch as they passed severe 
strictures on Homer and Hesiod, as the most popular and 
extensive originators of mythology, on account of the un- 
worthy and immoral representations they made of deity 
in their songs and poems. Those poems pass with us now 
only for an agreeable play of the imagination, ministeriDg to 
our delight and our amusement. But when we recollect 
that the views they propound were regarded in the popular 
belief as truths, and when we reflect on the consequences 
of this, and the uses to which they were applied, we must 
needs, while admiring the magic of the verse, concur, 
in some measure, with those philosophers in their denuncia- 
tion of the muse. At least, we appreciate and understand 
the grounds of their disapprobation. It may be said that they 
were too much biassed by their hostility to poetry, and that 
their censure is far too indiscriminate : the mental develop- 
ment of the Greeks was, indeed, of so varied a character, that 
it is no easy matter to pronounce a verdict of general applica- 
tion, especially to remoter ages. Thus, it is highly probable 
that the earlier songs, prior to Homer, those commemorating 
the labours of Hercules, the battles of giants, gods, and heroes, 
the storming of Thebes by the seven warrior-chiefs, but, es- 
pecially, the wondrous expedition of the Argonauts, had, in 
a great measure, a deeper significancy and more exalted views 
than the later heroic songs of the Trojan period. Some 
portions, possibly, accorded in a greater degree with Asiatic 
traditions, than did the subsequent modes of thought: or, at 
least, were suggestive of them, as, for instance, the imagina- 
tive description of the successive ages of the world, handed 
down in the name of Hesiod. First the golden, commenc- 
ing with a perfect innocence, and the undisturbed blissful 
enjoyment of life, when man associated with the gods and 
led a godlike life. Then the silver age, inferior in degree 
and worth. Last the brazen, a period of lawless violence 
and rude force, indicative of gradual degeneracy. In re- 
gard to this allegorical meaning of the older Greek poetn r , 
Orpheus, though personally fabulous, remains a name 
not altogether devoid of import to the historian : express- 
ing, as it does, the minstrel who revealed and openly 
disseminated the secrets of old tradition and consecrated 



MATERIALISM OF MYTHOLOGY. 37 

symbols, in heroic song, agreeably to the genius of his 
time. However the case may have been in remoter an- 
tiquity, in the Homeric poems this deeper significancy is all 
but obliterated, and has left scarcely any trace, however 
faint, behind. In the Theogony, attributed to Hesiod, which 
seems to have been pretty generally diffused, and may serve as 
a standard of measurement for the rest, the meaning is suf- 
ficiently obvious, but very material, and altogether contempti- 
ble. The world, according to his account, sprang from Chaos. 
Not to mention the many unseemly and preposterous notions 
of the gods, nature is represented in inexhaustible fertility and 
vitality, under many allegories, all resolving themselves into 
the conception of an infinite and eternal animal. In this 
mythology, the life of nature is conceived in the idea of per- 
petual change from love to hatred, attraction and repulsion, 
without any intimation of a higher spirit, which, whilst 
eminently intelligible in the inner man, at least occasionally, 
breaks through and is manifested in certain phenomena of 
Nature. 

Such theology is, in reality, positive materialism, not 
indeed as yet reduced to system, as a professed science or phi- 
losophy, but appealing in poetic garb to the people's sympa- 
thies. This cannot be alleged of Homer, for in him no such 
material views are ever enunciated. In his picture of huma- 
nity, wherein the gods are introduced as mere shapes of poetic 
imagination, scarcely any allusion is made to what, in a phi- 
losophical and general sense, we term Religion, or to any 
false opinions usurping its place. There is no infidelity, 
denial, or objectionable material apprehension of the same, 
but, rather, total ignorance and childlike ingenuousness, com- 
bined, as in the case of children, here and there with de- 
lightful freshness of feeling, with a happy presentiment, and 
an occasional flash of truth. Looking, then, from our 
point of view, we should not be inclined to disturb the 
ancient verdict, as far as it concerns Hesiod, and would assent 
to it as just though severe, but our judgment of Homer must 
be far more favourable. Yet it may easily be understood how 
some things involved in his myths, gave offence to the later 
moralists of his nation, nor can it be concealed that his re- 
presentation of the gods, in a poetic or moral light, actually 
constitutes the weak side of his poems. If Homeric heroes 



38 ALLEGOEICAL REPRESENTATIONS OF DEITY. 

sometimes appear superhuman and divine in their strength 
and greatness, the Homeric gods, on the other hand, are fre- 
quently found grosser, more subject to human infirmity, and 
in every respect less god-like than the heroes. This is easy 
of explanation, since the character and general treatment of 
the gods belonged rather to the significancy of old tradition, 
than to the ennobling imagination of the bard. Every thing re- 
lating to the gods had originally, in the popular mind, a signifi- 
cancy, for the most part connected with nature. Ideas of 
such natural significancy, embodied in the actions of beings 
resembling humanity, could not fail to present frequent 
images of absurdity and seeming immorality. The instance 
of Saturn or Kronos, devouring his own children, need alone 
be cited. Taken in a human and moral acceptation, this is a 
hideous conception, yet nothing more is intended than to 
depict the changing reproductiveness of nature continually 
eliminating her own offspring. Hesiod is full of similar 
conceits which, unless they are considered in relation to 
nature and a hidden meaning, are offensive and disgusting. 
Much in the same way, the allegorical import of most ori- 
ginal representations of their divinities, common to antiquity, 
is apt to be detrimental to the beauty of many of the imita- 
tive arts. Take, by way of illustration, the hundred-armed 
giant, simply a symbol of strength and powerful activity. 
In a poem, as met with in Homer and Hesiod, the image is 
not so repugnant, for it does not, in thought, stand out in 
such bold relief: but when sculptured in enduring marble, 
it produces a figure resembling those idols which still inspire 
us with feelings of monstrous disgust, as we view them among 
Asiatic nations. Or in the case of similar representations, 
nobler and more intellectual, but incompatible with beauty of 
proportion. The Indians have expressed their idea of deity at 
once creative, preservative, and destructive, by a three-headed 
statue. In keeping with a like symbolical reference, the 
Indian Brahma has four heads, and the old ILoman Janus had 
two faces. All these allegories are unfavourable to beauty of 
form. For the same reason, sculpture attained a higher de- 
gree of perfection among the Greeks than it did among the 
Egyptians, since the former gradually forsook ancient 
symbols when they led to monstrosity, without altogether 
losing sight of reference to the Divine. Individual poets, 



MYTHOLOGICAL ALLEGORIES. 39 

especially Pindar, who from the bent of their genius 
sought to beautify and ennoble all objects, endeavoured 
to veil mucli that was rude and offensive to the moral 
feelings in the old mythic legends. But the same amount 
of success that was observable in sculpture could not 
possibly attend their efforts, since ancient poetry was 
entirely dependent upon mythology, the nature of which it 
was not competent for any one poet to alter at his will, or 
even considerably to modify. Even in Homer, who, most of 
all the poets, represents the gods in human phase, vestiges of 
this kind are to be found. One example will suffice to render 
this distinctly intelligible. When Jupiter, in passionate out- 
burst, tells the gods that if they fastened a chain to heaven, 
and all of them clung to it, they would still be too feeble to 
tear him from his throne, but that, if he pleased, he could 
pull them all up to him, at the first glance, this wears the ap- 
pearance of gross and unseemly rhodomontade. But beyond 
all doubt, it is an allegorical allusion to the concatenation of 
all beings, and so the ancients explained it. A clearer 
illustration still is found in another passage, which, at 
the first, seems exceedingly repulsive and absurd. In an- 
other of his customary paroxysms, Jupiter bids Juno remem- 
ber the punishment she once received for persecuting his dear 
son Hercules. On which occasion, the queen of the gods is 
represented as having been suspended from the firma- 
ment of heaven, with hands fettered and an anvil attached to 
each foot. Some allegorical thought unquestionably floated 
before the poet's fancy, and, perchance, he recalled to 
memory some distinct hieroglyphic picture. Yet, after all, 
passages of this sort are, proportionately, rare in Homer, and 
this has induced commentators to reject portions here and 
there, as spurious additions, contrary to the spirit of his 
genius : whilst later critics have contended sharply respecting 
their actual import, to which they have attached the most 
opposite explanations. In an artistic point of view, these 
symbols form the background of a remote and sacerdotal 
past, in the immortal picture of the noblest epic that has 
come down to us. After the connection of individual fea- 
tures had long been lost, and the simple meaning of 
ancient natural impressions had disappeared, free scope was 
given for the most manifold variety of interpretation. 



4.0 POPULAR BELIEF. 

Nevertheless, these and such like representations fell 
under the obloquy of moralists regarding them, as they 
must, from their point of view, and hence exception was 
taken to Homer, and to poetry generally. Besides these 
vestiges of a remote epoch, of a system of symbols no 
longer understood, the Mythology was repulsive to mo- 
ralists on other grounds. From the practice of the 
ancients to trace the lineage of their most celebrated 
names to heroic genealogies, and these, in their turn, to 
deities, the father of the gods more particularly, had 
so numerous an heroic offspring, and so long was the cata- 
logue of his mortal paramours, that Ovid has filled whole 
poems and books with detailed descriptions of them. As has 
before been observed, all this appears to us a mere play of 
the imagination, fitted to amuse us, though never worthy of 
being submitted to our serious judgment. But could the 
moralists in question so easily dispose of that which formed 
the subject of prevalent, popular belief? A belief, moreover, 
on which was founded the whole of social arrangement and 
public education, and which made the immoral applications 
in connection with it so palpably evident ! 

So far then the censure of the older philosophy is both in- 
telligible and justifiable, if we transport ourselves to the 
right stand-point. We must, however, discriminate be- 
tween Homer in particular and the old mythology gene- 
rally. Easpite all defects, Homer has been the fruitful 
parent of so much that is good and beautiful, to Greece and 
the whole of Europe, that we cannot refrain from feeling 
under obligations to Solon and the Pisistratidee for having 
preserved the Poet who might have been suffered to fall into 
oblivion, had the opinion of the philosophers of the time pre- 
vailed. But of Greek mythology generally, without including 
this prince of the ancient poets, it must be confessed that in 
times with which we are historically familiar, it is deserving 
of censure, not only offensive to individual morality, but 
essentially material in all its views, and thoroughly objec- 
tionable and impious. Yet these same philosophers w r ho so 
severely reproved poets and their mythology, and would have 
altogether supplanted them, did not, previous to the time 
of Socrates, elevate their own faculties to a comprehension 
of divinity, some few of their number contenting themselves 



PHILOSOPHY OF THE ANCIENTS. 41 

with a more reflective veneration for nature. The transition 
from a system like theirs to that of the Sophists was almost 
imperceptible, and the latter soon proved more dangerous to 
civil and social interests than the poets had ever been in their 
innocence and simplicity. 

The philosophy of the ancients, like their poetry, emanated 
from the Asiatic Greeks. The region in which Homer and 
Herodotus were bred, likewise produced the first and greatest 
philosophers : not only Thales and Heraclitus, who established 
in their own country the so-called Ionic school, but those, too, 
who disseminated their doctrines throughout Magna Grsecia 
and southern Italy, such as the poet Xenophanes, and Py- 
thagoras, the founder of the great philosophic league. In 
art and poetry, we are already prepared to admire the Greeks : 
but, perhaps, in no department of knowledge, has their 
genius exhibited so much of activity and rich invention, as in 
that of philosophy. Their very errors are instructive, since 
they were, every where, the fruits of independent thought. 
They found no beaten track of truth : but were, themselves, 
compelled to pioneer a path in all directions of their enquiry : 
they are, therefore, best fitted to testify how far man may 
proceed in the investigation of truth by his natural powers 
alone. Let us briefly consider the particulars of this philo- 
sophy. 

The Ionic sages revered one or the other element of nature, 
as a primary force : Thales, water — Heraclitus, fire. It 
must not be supposed that this was accepted in a corporeal 
sense. In addition to the nutritive and all-productive power 
of water, they recognized in liquid form the principle of con- 
stant change and mobility in nature. Neither was it the ex- 
ternal, visible flame, that Heraclitus adduced as the princi- 
pium of nature, but, pre-eminently, the latent heat, the inner 
fire, which was held by the ancients to constitute the ener- 
getic vigour of all things animate. The tenets of Heraclitus, 
the originator of this doctrine, were, probably, of a highly 
intellectual character. But the example of Anaxagoras best 
proves how little the mind of this school could disengage 
itself from the shackles of matter. Though he i3 generally 
reckoned to have been the first who, prior to Socrates, ac- 
knowledged an Intelligence governing in nature and above 
nature, and regulating the universe, yet, when he came to 



42 INCONSISTENCY OF OPINIONS. 

explain the constitution of the world, he betook himself to 
little simple atoms, of which, according to the doctrine of 
materialism, all matter was compounded. This doctrine of 
mechanical union had been completely systematized by those 
early Greeks — Leucippus and Democritus — and, in the later 
teaching of Epicurus, had exercised an influence over both 
Greeks and Romans, in a degree equal to its sway in the 
eighteenth century. This is that pure materialism which 
abolishes every idea of a Deity. 

Let it not be supposed that these were mere speculations, 
without any influence on human life. The deficiencies of 
the popular belief of the Greeks, and of the older philoso- 
phy previous to Socrates' time, are most manifest in their 
doctrines concerning the immortality of the soul. The indis- 
tinct world of shadows, whose outlines appear in their belief 
and in their bards, was a poetic dream, which as soon as 
reflection was awakened, was exchanged for scepticism or 
downright unbelief. In the mysteries, or secret religious 
societies, spread over Greece as well as Egypt, some few 
doctrines relative to a future life, more definitely shaped, but 
still in allegory, would seem to have been taught; but they 
were confined to a narrow circle. The earlier and later 
philosophers, in their attempts to prove immortality, 
thought only of the indestructibility of primary force, 
without reference to personal continued existence. Ideas 
referring to such a future, a personal immortality, as ifc were, 
Pythagoras seems to have been the first to propagate. 
Though his teaching was not unalloyed, inasmuch as he con- 
nected immortality, like the Orientals, with transmigration 
of souls, yet he is elevated far above all the elder Greek 
philosophers, and, as an apostle of truth, greatly benefited 
his nation. But his league, aiming, no doubt, at political 
power, and impracticable without a total subversion ot 
the old creed, crumbled away before his designs were 
perfected, and from his time down to Socrates the interval* 
was filled up by growing anarchy and confusion. 

The strange inconsistency of opinions, conceived and 

maintained, and disseminated by means of accomplished 

rhetoric : the doubt and infidelity, thence ensuing, the 

confusion of all ideas, the loosening of all fixed principles, 

* About eighty years. 



IMMUTABLE UXITY WITHOUT MOTITE POWER. 43 

were never displayed, in the entirety of their noxious in- 
fluence on life, so fully as at that period. One section of 
these ancient philosophers, whilst differing on various points, 
had this in common, that they looked upon nature purely on 
the side of its perpetual change and motion. They held 
that all things were in a constant flux. They carried this 
assertion so far as to deny that any thing at all was fixed 
and permanent : they denied that anything was stable in 
existence — anything absolutely indubitable in knowledge, or 
any principle of universal application in morals : in other 
words, they ignored, together with Divinity, truth and 
justice. 

Another section, entertaining rational views of an immu- 
table Unity, were diametrically opposite in their opinions, 
since they denied the possibility of motive power, as well as 
the actual existence of a world of sense, and sought to main- 
tain their paradoxes with the highest dialectic skill : hence 
at least so much of their purpose was effected that doubt 
and uncertainty became more and more general. One of the 
first and greatest of these Sophists commenced his teaching 
with the express assertion : that, in itself, there is no such 
thing as truth : that, if there were truth, it were inca*- 
pable of being apprehended by man ; and that, if it were 
intelligible, it would, still, be incommunicable to him. 
Pure scepticism might readily be permitted to the reasoner, 
if he had attained to so joyless and unsatisfactory a convic- 
tion after a process of diligent and honest enquiry, and if his 
artificial ignorance were removed from the possibility of 
acting injuriously or destructively on every-day life, but con- 
fined to his own bosom. But the Sophists had disciples and 
adherents throughout all Greece ; the education of all the 
noble and ingenuous youth was in their hands. Neither 
was their scepticism an honest one, for, whilst some 
taught that nothing can be definitely known, others main- 
tained that they were omniscient masters of each art 
and every science. They easily succeeded in enabling their 
followers to perplex and beguile the unwary and less 
experienced by means of certain sophisms, and in the end 
cheated themselves into the delusion that they were com- 
petent to decide upon the merits of all things, easily and 
promptly — as it were by innate instinct — much better than 



44 SOCKATES. 

their predecessors, whom no opportunity was missed to ridi- 
cule. It was one of the practices in their schools not merely 
to defend, at will, opposite opinions, in order to sharpen the 
mental faculties, and improve oratory : but, further than this, 
it was a customary study to make an avowed falsehood appear 
truthful by means of ingenious arguments, and thus impose 
on their fellow citizens. It was laid down as a dogma that 
there was no other virtue than dexterity and force, in cool 
contempt of all moral axioms, which, it was alleged, served 
only to mislead weaker men, and were pronounced to be mere 
superstitious folly — and that there was no other right than 
the right of the stronger, or the will of the ruler. In these 
schools, too, the popular belief was ridiculed, which, with all 
its defects, was, yet, connected in many minds with noble 
and moral feeling, and should, therefore, have been spared so 
long as nothing better could be provided in its place. Not only 
were many contradictory expositions, empty and perverse 
notions respecting the world and its great first cause, gene- 
rally propagated, but the existence of a deity was ignored, 
inasmuch as all sense of truth and justice was blasted and 
rooted up. 

And all this in states which were, moreover, on the brink 
of ruin, given over to unbridled democracy and the blind 
fury of contending factions, weakened and shattered by war, 
plunging from one bloody revolution into another, and sink- 
ing fast and deeper into anarchy. 

In the midst of such universal atheism, Socrates arose, 
and inculcated anew the doctrine of a God in a practical 
manner ; he first attacked the Sophists and unveiled their 
nothingness : then, he set goodness and beauty, nobility and 
perfection, righteousness and virtue, as well as all that leads 
to God and issues from him, in varied modes before men's 
eyes, and touched their hearts. Thus, he became the 
second founder and the restorer of the nobler and loftier in- 
tellectual culture of the Greeks, but fell, in his own person, 
a victim to his zeal for truth. His death is too memorable 
an event in the history of humanity, not to deserve a few 
moments' attention at our hands. 

The single charge that was brought against him, that 
of having introduced the 'doctrine of a new and unknown 
God, and which was, therefore, a species of treason against 



CALUMNIATED BY HIS OPPONENTS. 45 

the state that had adhered to the gods of popular belief, was a 
indeed, in a certain sense founded on what must needs re- 
dound to Socrates' credit. If the Socratic system of thought, 
which was altogether new to Greece, had not merely been 
confided to the circle of a few select disciples, but become 
prevalent throughout that country, the mode and habits of 
life, together with a considerable portion of the people's 
creed, would either have been abolished, or must have under- 
gone an entire remodelling. In anticipation of this, some 
narrow-minded followers of the old religion were eager to 
heap calumny upon the head of Socrates, and hastened to 
confound him with those very Sophists and new teachers 
whose doctrines he was combating; whilst with many it 
was, doubtless, a mere pretext — the political views of So- 
crates constituting the actual ground of their hatred. 

Under all circumstances, Socrates had approved himself 
an excellent citizen and a courageous patriot, but he was 
the declared foe of democracy, at least the majority of 
his adherents were. The manner, as exhibited in Xenophon 
and Plato, of preferring, sometimes with excessive partiality, 
the institutions of Sparta, and those inclining to aristocracy, 
generally, could not but appear odious and unpatriotic at 
Athens. ]N"or were all the foes of democracy, who issued 
from the school of Socrates, equally blameless and noble with 
Xenophon and Plato. Critias, too, had attended the teaching 
of Socrates : Critias, one of the thirty tyrants who ruled in 
Athens, through Spartan influence, after that city had lost 
its independence. An ancient writer, not without some show 
of reason, alleges this circumstance to have been the chief 
cause of "Socrates' untimely end. 

It is somewhat difficult satisfactorily to explain how 
Socrates arrived at his peculiar views. He was acquainted 
with the higher philosophy without being perfectly satisfied 
with it. On several occasions he referred to a higher genius 
or daemon that controlled his actions : and it is not easy to 
decide whether this meant the small still voice of conscience, 
the suggestion and decision of his reasoning faculties, or 
something different. There is like difficulty in determining 
what his views of the popular creed were : whether he 
rejected it entirely, or retained some purer portion of the 
same. He seems to have been familiar with all that 



46 HE EEEUSES TO ESCAPE EKOM PRISON. 

was known to the secret societies of the day. From 
those sentiments which the philosophy of the eighteenth 
century would as unhesitatingly term superstitious, as 
did the all-knowing and unbelieving sages he opposed, he 
was certainly not free. One instance will serve to shew 
how frequently, even in this particular, he was misrepre- 
sented and wrongly estimated. In the last conversation he 
had with his friends, just before his death, to the enquiry if 
he had any further request to make, he replied : none, save 
that a cock be sacrified to Aesculapius. This has been found 
fault with: for, say the critics, in his last moments he either 
paid homage to popular superstition, the futility of which he 
must have discovered, or if he mocked it, the jest was, at least, 
unseasonable. But the significancy of his meaning is plain. 
It was usual for convalescents from a long and severe illness 
to make this votive offering to Aesculapius. The thought, so 
beautifully developed by several of his successors, lay, like 
a fair gem, enshrined within his words ; that this life was des- 
tined to be only a preparation for a more exalted one, or, as 
expressed by the ancients, that man might learn to die. Life, 
in the abstract, —but how much more forcibly the life of his 
troubled times — was regarded by Socrates as a prison of the 
nobler soul : as a malady from which the serene sage was 
content and happy to be delivered by death, since it was so 
ordained. In the condemnation of suicide, however, if not 
the first, he was certainly the most decided of all ancient 
philosophers : maintaining that it was clearly a crime against 
self, and against God. He would, by no means consent to 
escape from prison and death. Neither could he have done 
so, without, materially, detracting from his own dignity 
and that of his cause, which, now that he had bequeathed 
to his followers so noble an example of constancy in having 
sealed his convictions with his death, was held in increased 
reverence by posterity and recognized to be the cause of vir- 
tue as well as truth. 

From the rich store of the ancient Greek philosophy it has 
only been my wish to introduce here a few outlines for sketch- 
ing a general picture: I have, especially, selected what is histo- 
rically true, what, from its reference to life, seemed generally 
remarkable, and was most capable of being clearly elucidated. 

From this digression, I now return to a brief description 



PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. 47 

of the most distinguished writers. Beauty of style inti* 
mately connects Xenophon with the best authors of antiquity. 
As an historian, he excels Thucydides in ease and clear- 
ness of expression, as also in artless grace. But, as he is 
deficient in elevation of sentiment, those who are accustomed 
to reflect deeply will incline to the ruggedness of Thucy- 
dides. In giving a philosophical description of the Socratic 
dialogues, he is far inferior to Plato, not only in depth of 
thought but in richness of illustration and artistic skill. His 
political romance of the life of Cyrus deserves mention, as 
being unique of its kind in antiquity : yet, this hybrid species 
of history, poetry, and morals, notwithstanding its individual 
beauties, is, on the whole, not to be recommended for imita- 
tion. 

"Whilst Xenophon and other Socratic writers laboured to 
restore beauty and simplicity of style, sophistry continued 
to exercise its baleful influence on Grecian rhetoric generally. 
The example of Isocrates proves to us how far this artificial 
subtility of language and expression was carried — among an 
intellectual people — a subtility which frequently rejoiced in 
selecting fictitious subjects at random, without the slightest 
reference to their applicability or value, — in preference to 
others of intrinsic importance — simply for the purpose of 
practising oratorical flow, and the play of imagination. There 
is, doubtless, some artistic merit in the care with which their 
sentences were composed, the choice position of each word, 
the cadence of every syllable, the diligent rounding of 
periods, the nice finish of the whole. To us, indeed, this 
ornamental elegance, and elaborate polish, may seem, pe- 
culiarly, to commend itself, culpable, as we are, in the 
extreme of unjustifiable negligence. But this art should 
not be felt, ought not to be conscious of its own presence, 
for we experience its disturbing effect — even in sculpture. 
And yet, here, the case is widely different: it is much less 
disagreeable to be reminded by the dead stone, of elaborate 
art : than it is by written productions. Language was never 
intended to be mere inanimate art, but free, living, and acting 
upon life itself. 

Plato and Aristotle, whom here I am treating of simply as 
writers, mark out at once the whole extent of Greek cul- 
ture, and the extreme height and depth to which the genius 



48 EESPECTIVE MERITS. 

of that country, at any time, attained. The first, considered 
and represented philosophy entirely as an art : the second, as 
science, in the fullest sense of the word; since with philosophy 
he comprehended physics and natural history, general history, 
politics, and learning, and thus reduced all the knowledge of 
the Greeks to one system. 

In the representative and poetical portions of his dialogues, 
especially in language and artistic feeling, Plato was esteemed 
by the ancients as the greatest of their prose writers. His 
distinguishing excellence lies in the manifold variety with 
which he is enabled to approach each subject, from artificial 
abstractions and subtleties — through the labyrinths of which 
he pursues the Sophists, — to poetic passages, occasionally of 
dithyrambic power, in which he communicates his philoso- 
phical fictions and myths. Considered merely as descriptive 
works, his Plicedo and Republic, belong to the noblest pro- 
ductions of Greek genius. 

Aristotle closes the circle of classical development, as 
regards the form and method of philosophy, which he per- 
fected for the world at that period. Its first epoch is marked 
by Ionic thinkers, with their aphorisms and gnomic prose, 
which we have already considered as the most primitive 
form of philosophic contemplation. Others, like Par- 
menides and Empedocles, returned once more to poetry. By 
means of the Sophists, and then, though in a purer spirit, by 
means of the Socratic school, philosophic exposition, during 
the second epoch of its history, became thoroughly rhetorical 
and dialectic, assuming, at the last, the form of dialogue. 
In this department of philosophic teaching, Plato outstrips 
all competitors in ever-changing variety of example and pro- 
totype in every species of art : in most manifold gradations, 
from the abstract web of pure dialectic thought, to the richest 
dramatic vivacity, and most genial descriptions of character: 
one charming whole of philosophic fiction and poetic allegory. 
The critical comparison of the older systems, which was in- 
stituted by Plato, was continued by Aristotle with fuller 
completeness; so that, by his thoroughly critical method he 
grew to be the founder of systematized discourse, in those 
works of his which aimed at as great a perfection of science 
as was possible : this may be regarded as the third epoch of 
philosophy in its form of development. Subsequent schools 



RESTORATION OF PHILOSOPHY. 49 

alternated the systematic, Aristotelian method, with the Pla- 
tonic form of dialogue, in philosophy. Till at a much later 
period, a purely rhetorical process of philosophy obtained in 
the Syncretic and Eclectic schools of new Platonism. 

These two master-spirits, Plato and Aristotle, have for two 
thousand years exercised immense influence over the pro- 
gress of mental effort throughout Asia and Europe ; of this 
further mention will be made in another place. As a 
writer, Aristotle is marked by the refined elegance that 
was beginning to characterize his age. "Whilst Plato was 
considered an archetype of excellence in language, art, and 
the essence of Grecian, more especially Attic, culture : Aris- 
totle influenced learning, rendered criticism more acute, and 
developed all the resources of historic science, in the most 
decided and profitable manner. Aristotle's immediate suc- 
cessor, Theophrastus, the character-painter, as also those 
of Plato's school, were men of general culture, their writings 
being composed in a noble and pleasing style. The philosophic 
sects that followed appeared to great disadvantage in this 
respect : the adherents of Epicurus relaxing into a negligent 
slipshod manner, whilst the Stoics indulged in bombastic 
verbosity, and an aifected technicality of language. Uni- 
versal degeneracy of mind began to manifest itself very clearly 
in the form of expression. 

The restoration of philosophy by Socrates did not extend 
to the whole of Greek intellect: it operated directly on but 
a few who every day withdrew themselves more and more 
from social life, and disowned any connexion or sympathy 
with the nation that was tottering fast into lowest degrada- 
tion. On poetry — to which I now return — it could scarcely 
have had any influence at all, inasmuch as that art depended 
altogether on mythology, popular belief, ancient tradition 
and usage, and when national life had, as it were, lost its 
vivifying and sustaining force, poetry could only be called an 
echo of the early glorious past of inventive bards. 

In the later poetry of the Greeks, then, we behold the 
mere picture of continual decline ; yet this period is not with- 
out occasional beauties, and distinct traces of Grecian intel- 
lect and poetic faculty. 

Of the decline of tragic art, it will be remembered, we per- 
ceived the first tokens in Euripides, however excellent he 



50 MENANDEB. 

may be in pathos, however rich, here and there, in lyric 
charm. This less perfect form of his, as compared with the 
older Tragedians, is especially manifested in the want of 
unity and connection in his compositions. It has, previously, 
been remarked that ancient tragedy took its rise from those 
choral and festive songs, based on mythology, peculiar to the 
Greeks. The chorus is inseparable from the very essence of 
old tragedy, seeiDg that it is altogether lyric in its nature 
and properties. This peculiarity has been felt by modern 
poets when they sought to imitate or appropriate the form. 
Perfect accord and suitable relation between the chorus and 
the dramatic action are, hence, essential to the perfection of 
tragedy such as this. In Sophocles, harmonious unison of 
the two is thoroughly realized ; but in Euripides, the chorus 
wanders over the whole domains of mythology, as though its 
position were merely one of tradition and custom. Thus, 
likewise, many lyric beauties, in themselves exquisite, which 
the poet had acquired in the schools of the Sophists, as also 
long oratorical speeches, are frequently introduced out of 
place. Now that true harmony had departed, and the lyric 
elements were no longer an integral part of the whole, dra- 
matic action, such as had formerly filled up the interstices of 
tragedy, bore the appearance of meagre poverty. In order 
to enrich it, the poet betook himself to various expedients, 
in the shape of complications, surprises, double catastrophes, 
intrigues, more suitable to comedy, and not in harmony with 
the dignity of Tragedy. 

The last poet who depicted Athenian life in a novel and 
original manner, was Menander ; the founder, or finisher, of 
elegant Comedy, and whose merits we are in a condition, 
approximately, to estimate, by the imitations or translations 
of Terence. Dramatic art, which, in iEschylus, began with 
the heroically great and wonderful, had thus reached its last 
stage. Leaving the obscurity and mighty forms of a poetic 
past, it gradually drew nearer to the present, ending with a 
spirited representation of ordinary life ; and when the cha- 
racters, situations, and combinations of the same were com- 
pletely exhausted, it terminated its career and ceased to 
exist. Many of the ancients doubted if a description of 
real life, and of the present, in a word, if every day Co- 
medy belonged to the department of poetry. Many do- 



THE NATTJKE OE POETEY. 51 

nied that it was, and held tliat mythology, no less than 
verse, was one of its essential properties. In our acceptation 
of the word, the living representation of life cannot, by any 
means, be excluded from the domains of poesy, even without 
the elements of the wonderful and the fictitious. The 
first and primitive destination of poesy, in reference to 
mankind and to life generally — and this, in a national point 
of view, should be its acceptation — is, doubtless, to preserve 
and embellish traditions and reminiscences of a glorious past, 
that are peculiar to a people : as is the case in epics, in 
which free scope is given to the wonderful, and the poet con- 
forms himself to the mythology. The second destination of 
poetry is to set clearly before men's eyes a distinct and lively 
portraiture of actual life. This is feasible in other works of 
art likewise : but nowhere else so vividly, or with such graphic 
lorce as in the Drama. It is not alone the outward surface 
of life that poesy is intended to mirror : she may serve also 
to arouse the higher life of inward feeling. The essence of 
poetry, thus directed, is enthusiasm, or that exalted state of 
feeling manifesting itself in various shapes and forms which, 
as soon as this bent predominates, merges into lyric art. 

In our estimation, then, the nature and being of poetry 
consist of invention, expression and inspiration. In the first 
of these, invention, the other two elements, expression, and 
inspiration, are fully comprehended; but without actual 
invention, and without the marvellous, a work of the intel- 
lect and of language may be poetical by means of expression 
or inspiration alone, and deserve so to be called. These 
same elements of poetry we have before described as consist- 
ing of tradition, song, and figure, which, viewed from another 
point, are similar to the components I have mentioned. 
Poetry, if not a pure fiction, but having reference to a given 
subject shoots forth from Legend, as its natural root, and tra- 
dition, or legend, really constitutes the material foundation, 
the visible body of poetry. But inspiration is the soul of 
song, in the same manner as the artistic portraiture of the 
divine life, at which the ancients aimed in their tragedies, 
is the apex of poetical representation — when the inner spirit 
of poetry attains the summit of its aspirations. Thus, the 
life of poetry, like every species of exalted, inward life, rests 
on three principles, mind, spirit, and body or the sensuous 



52 DEVELOPMENT OE GEEEK POETET. 

element, and on the harmonious co-operation of these united 
elements in an ascending scale. 

Tradition, song, and figure, are the individual letters or 
syllables that compose and perfect the poetic triad and the 
eternal Word of poesy : the Word of nature, namely, such as 
the imagination includes in love, — and the Word of ardent 
feeling expressed in universal or national reminiscences, or 
in presentiments of the Divine. And this Word of poesy, 
itself, is but apart of the whole, the perfect Word, which was 
originally implanted, after the Divine image, in the several 
faculties of the soul, and to express which, in earthly cover- 
ing, man is summoned into this world of sense. 

Let us now glance back at the development of Greek 
poetry, in order to trace the same to its final stage. If we 
close the epoch of Attic culture with Menander, the last 
original Athenian poet, who described real life as well as 
influenced it, it constitutes a period — reckoning from Solon 
—of just three hundred years. 

The poets who appeared subsequent to the extension of 
Greek power by Alexander's conquests, and who especially 
gathered round the court of the Ptolemies, are, at most, to be 
regarded as a gleaning of the ancient Greek poetry. With 
respect to language, the preservation and interpretation of 
memorial records, and, indeed, for the purposes of learned cri- 
ticism generally, good service was rendered by the Court-phi- 
losophers, Academicians, and Librarians, of Alexandria. But 
they have that fault common to learned poets, affected ex- 
pression too rarely avoided : not a few are designedly 
obscure. Some, who took to Epics or general mythological 
subjects, contributed at any rate, to the preservation of old 
poetry, and handing it down to posterity. Thus when the 
works of so many older poets have perished, it cannot but be 
gratifying to us to be in possession of the pleasing fable of 
the Argonauts, treated of by Apollonius — an elegant poet of 
this period. Having before them a rich store of ancient 
minstrelsy, those Alexandrinian bards, possibly, penetrated 
deeper here and there into the connection of primitive legends 
and the spirit of mythology, than their predecessors of the 
blooming period of literature. In this way Callimachus de- 
serves especial notice, as having diligently studied the oJd 
traditions : a poetic Mythologist, and not destitute of poetic 



ITS TE^DE^CY. 53 

genius ; this is evidenced by the ardent Propertius, the 
Koman Elegiac poet, who caught the inspiration of his muse. 
Mythological subjects were now frequently treated in a sys- 
tematic manner, verses of analogous method and import being 
grouped together. Poetic unity, as a whole, was destroyed, 
or, as in Ovid's Metamorphoses, was produced only by arti- 
ficial transitions and unnatural combinations. 

The tendency of poetry, when on its decline, is to become 
increasingly isolated and secluded, and to deal with topics 
which are foreign to its genius. It needs no critical acumen 
to demonstrate that scientific Astronomy, a chapter on Bo- 
tany, or a string of Medical prescriptions, though embodied 
in verse, do not belong to poetry : or to shew that the di- 
dactic species of poem, as it is called, bequeathed to us by 
the Alexandrinians. is but an unnatural form of art. Modern 
writers have the less excuse for imitating this kind of 
composition, that they are altogether destitute of many 
advantages enjoyed by the Greeks. Iu the earliest ages, 
didactic poesy was made to subserve various purposes of 
purely scientific information, not in order to prove the 
facility with which difficult and unfavourable materials were 
handled, but for real instruction ; either because no actual 
prose existed, or it was not sufficiently developed to employ 
expressions suitable to the theme, or, at any rate, the author 
felt himself more at home in Hexameters. Originally, then, 
the Grecian didactic form had sprung up from a natural 
necessity of their intellectual culture : a circumstance that 
must have been an advantage to the moderns when they 
came to adopt this mode of writing. Mythology, moreover, 
so completely peoples the whole visible world with its form 
and attractive fables, that ifc is impossible to think of any 
subject not, in some degree, connected with its fictions, and, 
therefore, capable of occupying some department of ancient 
poesy. Even, when treating of medicine or botany, nu- 
merous opportunities occurred to the poet, of which he 
availed himself, to introduce some poetic allusion from fable- 
land, or some episode, without the slightest semblance of 
stiffness : but this constitutes the very charm of these poems, 
a charm which, in its native freshness and unimpaired by art, 
the moderns can never present to us. 

There is, however, one kind of poetry, appertaining to this 



54 BTJC0LIC3. 

latter period, more attractive to our taste, being not mere 
imitative art, but a delineation of life in a peculiar aspect. 
I allude to bucolic, or pastoral poetry : the Idylls of Theocri- 
tus and others. Pastoral life, in itself, has much of the 
poetical : but it is difficult to understand why this single 
phase is to be separated, and in set relief, from the great 
picture of human life poesy is intended to set before us. 
On calling to mind those passages in the heroics of the 
ancients, or in the chivalric poems of the moderns, in which 
the simple, guileless ease of rural life is contrasted with the 
restless roving of heroes amid the din and clang of arms, how 
exquisite the antithesis! The several features appear in 
mutual connexion and relative proportion, and there results 
a grand and general picture of life and of the world. The 
isolation of rustic portraiture from the poetic gallery as 
one unique whole, tempts the poet to repetition ; or, if 
he would not be tedious, and is ambitious to excel his pre- 
decessors, he is forced into exaggeration. It is a singular 
circumstance that this species of verse in later times of social 
refinement is most in vogue. Thus poetry frequently ex- 
presses that disgust at the refinements of city life which 
forces us back to Nature and rural scenes. Most idylls betray 
this their origin, and, ever and anon, reveal some trait that 
tells us that those shepherds and shepherdesses, who have be- 
taken themselves to the country, and put on the garb of 
rustics, are city ladies and gentlemen. Theocritus and the 
bucolic poems of antiquity undoubtedly present us with some 
genuine eclogues. Yet even they often remind us, by their 
elegance of diction and artful witticisms, of the seductions 
of the town and the intrigues of Courts. On the whole, the 
Idylls of the ancients corresponded with the import of their 
name : being little poetic pictures, borrowing their subjects 
sometimes from life, sometimes from mythology, but, gene- 
rally, of erotic contents. 

In this manner, then, poetry became disjointed, and gra- 
dually frittered away its resources. Its proportions dimi- 
nished more and more ; till, at last, it dwindled down to 
miniature groups of buds and flowers, single epigrams and 
conceits, forming an anthological wreath : or a collection of 
the neatest and prettiest poetical baubles of every kind. 



55 



LECTUEE III. 

Review. — Influence op the Greeks over the Romans. 
— Sketch oe Roman Literature. 

When the Greeks had ceased to be a nation, their litera- 
ture daily became less connected with actual life. This was, 
first and foremost, indicated by their phiiosophy ; its scien- 
tific views in antagonism to the vulgar creed, and its lofty 
ideas, were no longer applicable to the degraded national 
condition. Historical knowledge was, of course, extended 
in manifold ways; language and literature were, for the first 
time, placed on a sure basis, and universally cultivated. 
But the old grandeur of treatment, the freedom of spirit, 
were wanting. Oratory still asserted its supremacy in the 
general estimation, and, more than ever, constituted the 
principal object of education. If, however, even in the 
glorious olden times, this art was sometimes employed 
for the purpose of ingenious sophistry, how much more was 
this likely to be the case now, w r hen genuine political elo- 
quence had lost its occupation, and national feeling had 
become extinct even in speech, and degenerated into petty 
subtleties. Poetry, too, from which the whole of Greek 
culture had, at first, proceeded, was fast dwindling down 
to mere mechanical art : it could not escape the general 
impending doom. The fate of the imitative arts was happier, 
perhaps," because they are not so immediately dependent on 
the concerns of daily life. The artist works on, in his studio, 
after the lofty ideal : though, all around him, political insti- 
tutions may be shattered, and the aspect of society revolu- 
tionized. And, if here, too, the universal corruption of 
manners and customs was followed by effeminacy, and de- 
terioration of taste, the results were, at least, not so general. 
It is indisputable that many splendid productions were 
achieved, both in sculpture and architecture, in times when 
poetry and oratory were greatly corrupted. 



5I> INVENTIVE GENirS OF THE GREEKS. 

Other sciences, unconnected with public life, and totally 
independent of the moral condition of a people, continued 
to exhibit the inventive genius of the Greeks in great per- 
fection and power. In the mathematics, though without 
many instruments and appliances which, nowadays, we are 
accustomed to consider indispensable, they laid the founda- 
tion of scientific geometry and astronomy : and the true 
system of the universe, into which the earlier disciples of 
Pythagoras had partially penetrated, as is supposed, became 
a subject of general cognizance on the part of their philoso- 
phers. The admirable skill of Archimedes astonished and 
amazed even the Romans : and, notwithstanding the disad- 
vantages attendant on their inconvenient mode of desig- 
nating numbers by means of letters, and without any 
knowledge of the decimal system, the Greeks produced a 
Geometrician, in the person of Euclid, whose works are re- 
garded as classical by the best judges in modern times. 
Medicine, of yore a favourite study of theirs, now be- 
came one of their especial pursuits, and presented wide 
scope for their penetrating, inventive, and systematizing 
spirit. It w T as by means of these acquirements and not 
by literature alone : as orators and linguists, indeed, 
but no less so as artists, mathematicians, and physicians, 
that the Grreeks commended themselves to the Romans, 
when the latter, after having overrun Tarentum, lower 
Italy, and Sicily, entered the territories of Greece; and 
they speedily became necessary to the conquerors, however 
stoutly their influence was at first opposed. On two occasions 
Greek philosophers and rhetoricians were expelled from Rome 
by a decree of the senate ; and old Cato, an implacable foe to 
all Greek arts, and the champion of old Roman tastes and 
feelings, would not tolerate the presence even of their phy- 
sicians who attended very many Roman families : alleging 
that they were impostors, who killed, instead of curing, 
their patients, and recommending that domestic remedies 
and the wonted means of the good old times should be 
adopted. How necessary Greek rhetoricians and linguists 
were to the Romans, may be seen from the repetition of the 
decree, shewing that the first had not been long regarded. 
All this is easily explained. At that time the Greek tongue 
was the common medium of the civilized world. Homer's 



GREEK ORATORY. 07 

poems charmed the inhabitants of furthest Asia : the In- 
dians were, probably, not without some acquaintance with 
Greek literature : whilst in the remote "West, the Cartha- 
ginians wrote, in Greek, an account of their voyages of dis- 
covery, and Punic Hannibal the history of his wars. After 
the conquest of Southern Italy, and Sicily, whoso inhabi- 
tants spoke the Greek idiom, and when Macedonia and 
Achaia came to be occupied, a familiarity with this universal 
language became more and more essential to the Romans : 
especially as the Greeks were in possession of a host of 
historical works bearing on all those countries and nations 
with whom the conquerors had now been brought in relation. 
Romans themselves, who, at this period, began to write the 
history of their own country, did so in Greek; and Polybius, 
a Greek who had been taken to Rome as a hostage, was the 
first to describe to the world at large the character of 
the conquerors, in a copious work, the political contents 
of which, at least, were regarded as classical in all succeed- 
ing ages. Livius Andronicus, a Greek captive of Tarentum,* 
acquainted with the Latin tongue, first presented the Odys- 
sey in intelligible, though homely, Italian measure, to the 
Romans and initiated them by means of translations into 
the dramatic beauties of the Greeks. But what served to 
render Greek culture peculiarly agreeable to the upper 
classes of the Romans and gradually to the nation col- 
lectively, was Greek oratory, which was closely combined 
with instruction in the language itself. In Rome, too, elo- 
quence exercised considerable influence over state affairs, 
and the more disturbed times grew subsequently to the days 
of Gracchus, the more ambition stood in need of the assist- 
ance of some art like that of sophistry, which, on that 
very account seemed to the old conservative party dangerous 
to the state and injurious to thought. 

The later intellectual cultivation of the Romans was never 
entirely able to conceal this feature of its origin : we aro 

* In reference to this, Niebuhr, in his " Lectures on Roman History," 
says: — The translation of Greek poetry into the Latin tongue was a step 
of immense consequence. That Livius Andronicus had been taken pri- 
soner at Tarentum, may be a mistake, as he is perhaps confounded with 
M. Livius Macatus ; Livius Andronicus could at that time have been but 
a mere child. The accounts of him are very uncertain. — Translator s note. 



58 CHARGES BROUGHT AGAINST ROMAN LITERATURE. 

ever accustomed to repeat that the Eomans in their literature 
were mere imitators of the Greeks. 

That nations who appear later in the world's history and 
in the general development of Humanity should receive a 
large portion of their intellectual culture, as a bequest from 
those who have preceded them, is inevitable, and, therefore, 
in itself no reproach. It would be absurd to wish to intro- 
duce the exclusive policy of a commercial system into the 
domains of literature : or, in other words, to expect complete 
isolation of national development and genius. If national 
individuality be maintained in full integrity : if, in the pur- 
suit of knowledge, peculiarity of language and of thought 
be not heedlessly sacrificed to foreign culture, no blame 
is to be attached to a people seeking to enlarge their 
stores of literary wealth. Acquirements are, in themselves, 
the property of every nation ; the genius of the poet or in- 
structive writer who would influence his country, is elevated 
and embellished by gazing on the eminence to which art and 
reflection, spirit and language, have raised other nations. 
That kind of imitation alone is dead, which, instead of ge- 
neral, mental expansion, and animation, aims but at foreign 
forms that are individual and forced, the nature of wdiich is 
seldom completely applicable to the genius of any other 
people, and, though vigorous at home, droops w T hen trans- 
planted to a soil not its own. 

Roman literature is exposed, in some measure, to two 
charges : first, that of neglecting to work the mines of tradi- 
tionary legend : and, also, of futile artificial imitation of foreign 
forms which, instead of blooming in the native hue of health, 
drag on, like hot-house plants, a pale and sickly existence in 
uncongenial climes. 

Nevertheless, it possesses a certain character which im- 
parts to it an air of dignity, even when contrasted with 
Greek culture, its great original and source. It is a cha- 
racteristic peculiar to the Eomans and to B/ome, that great 
central-point of universal history, ancient and modern. 

Just as the artist is, or at least should be, animated by 
some lofty idea which causes him to forget all else, in w T hich 
he lives and moves, and in the realization of which, his 
productions, though varied in form and shape, all tend 
to a common centre : so the genuine poet and inventive 



DISTINCTIVE EEATUEES. 59 

writer is full of some great ideal, peculiar to himself, from 
which his efforts radiate, and of which the peculiar form of 
Art in which he strives to represent it, is only the outward 
expression. This it is that distinguishes the Greeks from 
the Eomans. Recall, for a moment, the great poets of the most 
nourishing period, iEschylus, Pindar, Sophocles : the patrio- 
tic and popular Aristophanes : the orator Demosthenes : the 
two great historians, Herodotus and Thucydides, or those 
profound thinkers, Plato and Aristotle. Each one of these 
has his own peculiar idea, to him all-absorbing, and mirrored 
in all his productions. Of the two Homeric poems the same 
may be said, though on the part of their great author, it was 
more unconscious : being not so much the result of steady 
purpose, as of very fulness and perfection of the happiest 
innate intellectual organization. Hence, the above-named 
writers, severally evince an individual mental process, a 
peculiar mode of representative art : nay, even their style and 
language are such as to make one feel like entering a new 
world. All elements and faculties of advanced civilization 
are here visible, in happiest combination, in richest purity, 
in full bloom of perfection, ranged side by side, from the 
first link to the last, in this chain of classical authors. 
"Whilst in Homer, we see the whole fulness of poetic fancy in 
the happy heroic age, spread out before us in the clear 
radiance of the purest light, Aristotle shews us the summit 
and whole extent of knowledge which the natural reason of 
antiquity could attain either by force of thought, or scientific 
enquiry. The great Dramatists express, more especially, 
the inner moral life, the character of the ancients, the very 
core of feeling, struggling, as it were, into creative power. 
On that very account, the whole of their works — with the 
exception of Sophocles their head, who, both in spirit and 
form, manifests finished and perfect harmony — are incom- 
parably more individual and local in style and art, and much 
less calculated to enlist our sympathies or create an active 
interest in the nature of their qualities, than those two. In 
Plato, however, we behold the purified Reason on the most in- 
tellectual elevation of ancient culture, striving after the higher 
light of a wondrous manifestation in all the raptures of en- 
thusiasm amid the secrets and symbols of the Divine. Beyond 
the limited horizon of Greece, he enters into the realms of 



CO ATHENIAN FEEEDOM. 

supernatural intelligence and of the most ancient traditions, 
gazing, now Eastward, now with a presentiment of Chris- 
tianity ; thus, the entire circuit of human power is exhausted 
and described by the imagination and reason, by the cha- 
racter and intellect of these great master-spirits of Humanity. 

So rich and manifold was Greek culture, and we seek in vain 
for similar originality in Eoman writers. Yet there is, in 
them, a compensating quality ; not peculiar to any one, but 
common to all, the paramount idea of Rome. Rome, so 
wonderful in the severity of her laws and morals, terribly 
grand even in her errors, and eternally memorable in her 
universal dominion. This is the spirit that pervades all 
Roman writings, and gives them a dignity independent of all 
Greek art and refinement which constituted, too often, the 
objects of their slavish imitation. 

The grandeur and general controlling force of the state, 
and the mental vigour and boldness of individuals are, in 
reality, somewhat antithetical, notwithstanding it is a na- 
tural as well as reasonable wish to see the union of 
both in equal parts. But, from the nature of things, it is 
hardly to be expected that in a State where the one idea of 
fatherland — its greatness and its fame — affects everything, 
and leaves no effort untinged with associations of the same, 
a varied development such as that characteristic of Greece, 
can exist. It was essential to the blooming prosperity of her 
genius and art that Athens should enjoy the perfect freedom 
she did, a freedom, at times, perilous to civil tranquillity. 
Sparta, the only state that was administered both with virtue 
and energy, in a word, the only state in all Greece whose 
political existence was not one of fleeting prosperity, but 
calculated to be permanent as well as sound, purchased this 
superiority at the price of a limited range of thought, man- 
ners, and genius, both in philosophy and poetry. 

Let me apply this observation to individuals : have not 
Caasar and Cicero something which places them before the 
rhetoricians, grammarians, philosophers, and sophists, to 
whom they are indebted as regards the graces of language, 
and oratory, and mode of thought, and to whom they are 
vastly inferior in acuteness and scientific knowledge ? Every 
one will feel that in the works of these two writers, as in 
those of all great Romans, there breathes a spirit differing 



OLD KOMAtf EPICS. Gl 

widely from the degeneracy of later Greek sophistry. It is 
not genius or individual intellect, but the absorbing idea of 
their country, of Eome unique in the world's history, which 
animates them throughout, and like the invisible spirit of 
life, imparts a glow to every page of their writings. 

To assert that the Eomans owed alJ their culture to the 
Greeks, and that they had, at no time, been in possession of 
original sources of information, is so little founded on fact, 
that the powerful influence exercised over the old heroic le- 
gends and poesy of Eome, by close contact with Grecian lite- 
rature, was the very means of well nigh obliterating such 
vestiges as still remained. Many writers, particularly familiar 
with early Eoman usages, occasionally hint at old songs cele- 
brating the deeds of a glorious past, which were sung at public 
entertainments, and at the tables of the wealthy. In historical 
epics, then, lay enshrined the patriotism and poetic genius 
of the Eomans, before they were tutored by the Greeks in 
sophistic oratory, and a more elaborate and regular prosody. 
If it be asked of what the contents of these old epics couid 
have consisted, history, at once, furnishes a reply. Not only 
the fabulous birth and adventures of Eomulus, the rape of 
the Sabine women, but likewise the traditionary combat of the 
three Horatii and Curiatii, the arrogance of Tarquin, the mis- 
fortune and death of Lucretia, with their revenge and the res- 
toration of liberty by Brutus : the wondrous war of Porsena, 
the banishment of Coriolanus, his warlike preparations against 
his birth place, and how, when his heroic heart beat with 
inward dissension, the presence of his mother, and the 
thoughts of Rome, overcame his wavering purpose. All 
these professed histories, when examined from a right point 
of view, at once approve themselves to the enquirer to be 
genuine old Eoman epics and fictions, and, as such, are of 
very great value ; though it may be difficult for the historical 
critic, if they are judged by a severe standard, to reconcile 
the numerous internal inconsistencies they contain. It had 
been frequently conjectured that much, which, in reality, be- 
longed to these early lays, had been falsely incorporated into 
history, and that Livy, especially, had embodied the essence 
of their story in his glowing page. But it was reserved for 
the acumen of a learned critic* of our own day to winnow, 

* See Niebuln-'s Roman History. 



62 TIIEIR PATRIOTIC CHARACTER. 

with diligent and careful hand, the substantial from the seem- 
ing, and he has accomplished his task with singular success. 
Thus, on the one hand, criticism deprives us of a portion of 
history that had, for ages, passed current on credit, and, yet, 
must ever have appeared vexatious, ambiguous, unsatis- 
factory ; whilst, on the other hand, we gain, at least, a feeble 
echo of the genuine Roman legends. Those historical hero-ad- 
ventures, before Greek verse and artificiality had weaned the 
Roman ear from the melody of native song, were wont to be 
chanted in simple strains, called Saturnine, in Italy, as a re- 
miniscence of the olden time, and which, with the single 
exception of rhyme — which they had not — were not unlike 
the irregular Alexandrines, employed by almost all Europe 
in the middle ages. 

The contents of these old heroic songs, whilst, here and 
there, lofty traits were exhibited, if we may judge from what 
is yet extant in the shape of ostensible history, were, for the 
most part, of a patriotic character, strictly confined to the 
praises of the native town : and, in spite of occasional ad- 
mixture of the fabulous and wonderful, approaching in genius 
and character to the historical. 

Thus, then, it is not difficult to comprehend that the 
fascinating variety of the Odyssey, and the euphonious sweet- 
ness of Greek hexameters so completely captivated the 
Roman soul and ear as to alienate them from their native tra- 
ditionary lays. 

There was yet another cause that weaned the Romans 
from their old heroic legends, and brought these latter so far 
into oblivion as to reduce them to the mutilated form of semi- 
fabulous and incoherent chronicles : it lay in Rome's own 
history and the subsequent condition of the world generally. 
The last heroic figure of early Roman history, appertaining 
in great measure, to tradition and poetry, and, unquestion- 
ably, handed down in song, is that of Camillus, liberating 
Rome from the conquering Gauls. The historical period of 
Rome dates from this liberation. Amid the devastation of 
the Gauls, memorials of every kind probably perished : all 
antecedent to this time is vague and dubious, or if any indi- 
vidual fact stands out in relief, it is, at all events, interspersed 
with fabulous matter. Then commenced the real greatness 
of Rome, first developed in the Samnite war. Historically 
speaking, this is indeed the heroic age of the Roman people, 



ejtotus. C3 

when, most probably, were composed the epics mentioned by 
Cato and Cicero, and present to the eye of Ennius, and even 
of Livy. To this historically heroic time of Roman energy 
and virtue, the ancient lays of kings, heroes, and liberators, 
as well as of events connected with the immortal City, were 
still near enough to be sensibly felt. But when Tarentum, 
Italy and Sicily, Macedon and Carthage, Spain and Achaia, 
fell under the yoke, what connexion was there between the 
insignificance of early Rome that made warfare against the 
Sabines, or like the Greeks before Troy, beleaguered Veii 
for ten long years —and the Rome that was pressing onward, 
irresistibly, to her destiny of universal dominion. In the re- 
motest times, the Greeks were a numerous people, branching 
out into different tribes and races. Rome, originally a single 
town, had, by incorporating several of the states of Italy, 
attained to a certain importance, and, eventually, became an 
empire before which a subjugated world lay prostrate. 

It was, then, a result of inevitable circumstances, that 
the native legends of Rome evermore retreated into dim ob- 
scurity, and were never suffered to unfold its beauties or re- 
ceive further embellishment, but in due time were superseded 
by Grecian genius and art. Ennius alone should not be made 
to bear the blame for all this — of whom the learned Critic, 
already alluded to, says, that he considered himself the first 
of Roman poets, for having rooted out the old national 
minstrelsy. It may easily be supposed that he, who in his 
simplicity fancied he had three souls because he knew 
three languages, Latin, Greek, and Oscan, or old Italian, 
was not a little proud at having been the first to imi- 
tate the Greek hexameter, though rudely enough. The 
genuine poet is not always exempt from vanity of this sort, 
frequently laying too great .a stress on an external, perhaps 
ill-selected, or not altogether successful, form, merely because 
it has cost him pains and exertion : whilst he sets no value 
on the genius that awakens our admiration, which, as he 
owes it exclusively to nature, he never thinks of comparing 
with others. But Ennius directed many of his efforts in the 
newly invented art to the subjects of those ancestral lays, and 
some of his verses, still extant, breathe a lofty tone of poetic 
sentiment. We are, farther, induced to think favourably of 
him, from the admiration in which he was held by Lucretius ; 



Gl DRAMATIC POETRY. 

that is, if we may suppose this admiration to have been 
founded on a kindred spirib and resemblance in elevation of 
thought and power of expression. 

The arts and methods of Greece made their way into Home 
incessantly, but with varying results. Of all these, history and 
eloquence were most congenial to the Romans, and those 
which they were most successful in applying to their own in- 
stitutions. Philosophy was the most foreign to their tastes, 
and in poetry, success varied with the different kinds adopted. 

Dramatic poetry was the first that the Romans sought to 
practise after the time of Ennius : but their labours re- 
sulted in bald translations, devoid of fidelity and care, and 
undeserving of the name of imitations. This holds good of 
the lost tragedies of Pacuvius and Atticus, as well as 
the comedies of Plautus and Terence which have come 
down to us. Domestic farce, the so-called Atellan plays, in 
Oscan idiom, survived only in the form of social entertain- 
ments in the private houses of the wealthy classes who, amid 
encroachments of foreign refinement, loved thus to dwell, at 
times, on the reminiscences of old Italian nationality. Much 
the same as, in our own day, a peculiar relish for Bardic song 
and popular comedy contrasts with a high degree of mental 
culture. On so slender a foundation it was scarcely possible 
to erect the superstructure of a national drama : at any rate, 
we have no reason to suppose that any such superstructure 
was actually raised. With regard to the translations that 
were made from Greek tragedy : whilst Roman mythology, 
as a whole, was originally near akin to that of Greece, yet, 
individually, there was much local difference. Iphigenia, 
(Edipus, Prometheus, the Atridse, the calamities that befcl 
the Theban Brothers, all appeared, more or less, strange to 
the Eomans, and contrary to the spirit of their manners : 
like an exotic, doomed, after a feeble struggle for existence, 
to wither and die off. A few tragedies of Roman poets in 
the reign of Augustus, which have been extolled as excellent 
of their kind, prove the scantiness of the species. Whilst 
the dramatic declamations generally attributed to Seneca, 
demonstrate how early Roman tragic compositions ended. 
The exhibition of Athenian manners in farce could not but 
appear stiff and lifeless to a Roman spectator. This satis- 
factorily accounts for the way in which the allurements of 



DKAMATIC EFFECT. 65 

Pantomime and the graces of the dance eventually sup- 
planted every other kind of scenic spectacle. 

Must not susceptibility of tragic feeling and intellec- 
tual sympathy have been blunted by gladiatorial shows, 
and combats, in which, sometimes, hundreds of lions or 
elephants were killed in the presence of an applauding 
assembly ? In the several attempts which the Romans made 
to establish native tragedy, it is strange that they seldom, 
if ever, drew their subjects from their own legends. This is 
the more singular that the moderns have frequently selected, 
for Tragedy, such themes as the combat of the Horatii, the 
deed of Brutus, or the self-conquest and altered resolve of Co- 
riolanus — in themselves highly poetical and not undramatic 
— and have thus, as it were, restored her own to poetry. The 
peculiar character of these historical tales supplies us with 
satisfactory reasons for this seeming singularity. The patri- 
otic feeling embodied in them was far too near that age, in 
point of time, to admit of dramatic effect. Of this the history 
of Coriolanus affords abundant proof. How could a Ro- 
man poet have, faithfully, delineated this patrician in the 
whole extent of his original arrogance towards plebeians— at 
a period when the Gracchi sought to free the Roman people 
from this very same patrician hauteur ? How could the 
banished Coriolanus have been introduced on the Roman 
stage, as, in bitter mood, he vents on his country reproaches 
not altogether undeserved — at a time when Sertorius, the 
noblest and boldest of the later Romans, living in banish- 
ment among the Tinconquered Lusitanians and Spaniards, 
was planning there the deliverance of his country and 
the founding of a new Rome ? With what feelings would 
Coriolanus — advancing at the head of a victorious army upon 
his native city — have been received by a Roman audience at 
the moment when Sylla was actually on his march with an 
armed force for the self-same purpose ? Again, in subsequent 
times, were not all these occurrences fresh, and, as though, 
present to the then living generation ? Not merely in 
this history, but throughout, the contests of patricians with 
plebeians were too marked, too closely interwoven with the 
web of Roman legendary story, to be suitable to republican 
times. And for the Augustan age, Brutus, and similar 
worthies, were equally unfit. Let me adduce an instance 



6G WANT OE EOMAN TEAGEDY. 

in point, from the modern drama. In his historical plays, 
Shakespere introduces the sanguinary feuds that embroiled 
the Houses of York and Lancaster, but when he wrote, 
those feuds were completely at an end. The civil wars of 
Germany especially, the one which, with more or less violence, 
convulsed the country for a period of thirty years, oiler 
copious and attractive themes for the German dramatist's 
treatment on our own stage : but here the case is not fully 
the same as with the Romans. And yet, the German poet, 
if he would do justice to his subject, has a difficult task in 
hand, and must proceed cautiously, in order not to irritate 
party feeling, or tear open afresh old wounds that had par- 
tially healed up, and thus destroy poetic effect. 

Eor these reasons, the Romans had no tragedy of their 
own, and indeed no distinguished stage. 

Of the poets who employed the other forms of the art, 
Lucretius, the earliest, stands alone in Roman literature, 
both as to genius and manner. He alone can, in some 
measure, afford us a specimen of the style and strain of 
the older Roman poesy : he wa3 but little understood or 
appreciated by his countrymen in subsequent times. His 
work, on the nature of things, in its method, resembles the 
scientific didactic form, which originated with the Greeks, 
and was still in vogue among them. The philosophy Lucre- 
tius had adopted was the worst that a Roman poet could have 
selected, that of Epicurus, which, whilst destroying all 
belief and all the nobler feelings, and, in a scientific point of 
view, abounding with the strangest hypotheses, was, if not 
positively immoral, at least unnational, and selfish in its ten- 
dencies and influence on life, as well as fatal to imagination 
and poetry generally. Yet all these difficulties were overcome, 
and it is with poignant regret that we contemplate his noble 
spirit given over to the deadly system of Greek sophistry. 
In sublime enthusiasm he holds the first place among Roman 
poets : as nature's own minstrel, he surpasses all the bards 
of antiquity. In reference to this kind of poetry, and the 
position that nature ought to occupy in poetic representation, 
1 would here make a few observations of general application. 

It is, unquestionably, the business of poetry to make not 
only man, but also surrounding nature the object of her 
representation, or her enthusiasm. In this instance, as in 



POETRY IN ITS RELATION TO NATURE. 67 

that of man, a threefold distinction obtains. The poetic 
treatment of man as its element and subject may be, first, a 
bright mirror of actual life, and of the present : second, the 
recollection of a glorious, heroic, past, and — where poetry 
would animate and inspire, rather than describe — the arous- 
ing of the deeper hidden feelings of humanity. All this may 
be applied to nature. Poetry is intended to present us 
with a picture of the collective external manifestations of 
nature ; to this end serves all that spring produces, of ani- 
mating and quickening influence, the noblest portions of the 
animal kingdom in form and habits, the loveliest in the 
world of plants and flowers, whatever in the external changes 
that take place in the heavens or on the earth appears sub- 
lime or important to the eye of man. The difficulty is to 
avoid excess : copious descriptions, even when, in the main, 
they are true, grow tedious and miss their aim. But single 
flowers plucked here and there from the lap of bounteous 
nature, and tastefully inserted in the wreath of poesy, con- 
stitutes an ornament both elegant and chaste. Nature, 
too, has her wondrous past : when she was irregular and 
gigantic in her proportions, like the race of man in the 
heroic ages. We are impressed with such a feeling, on be- 
holding some dreary and savage waste, where rocks and hills 
are confusedly heaped together like the ruins of a former 
world. All the legends of antiquity confirm us in this view 
of an old Tellurian period ; unusual appearances, storms, 
lightnings, floods, and earthquakes, partially transplant us 
to that wild state of nature. All these are fitting subjects 
for a great poet, and it is in depicting similar ones that 
Lucretius shews himself to be a glorious painter of nature. 
Yet here, too, the poet requires only what is general, the 
assumption of a wdld free state of things, a past age of sub- 
limity and grandeur as a theatre for nature's wonders. A 
technical and scientific view, namely, whether some extensive 
mountain ridge is the result of volcanic action or of water, is 
equallyuusuitedto the purposes of poetry with the doctrine 
of the atomic system, which even the fancy of Lucretius 
was not able to invest with poetic charms. The third medium 
whereby the poet comes in contact with nature, is through 
the feelings. Not only in the warble of the nightingale, or 
whatsoever else in w r oodland melody delights every one, but 



68 SECRET YIEW OF NATURE'S WORKINGS. 

also in the murmur of the stream or of the woods, we think 
we hear a kindred voice, . of joy or saduess ; as though 
spirits and sensibilities akin to our own would fain rush to 
to us from afar, or from the narrow limits that separate 
them, to hold communion with us. To listen to these tones, 
to feel them inwardly, to read nature's very soul, the poet 
retires into solitude. The enquirer's doubts, whether the 
soul of nature be really thus animated, or whether it be a 
mere delusion, affect him not ; enough, that this feeling, 
this presentiment, lives in the imagination and the bosom of 
humanity and poesy ; and if the eye could lift creation's veil, 
and see the spirits of nature at work in their hidden labor- 
atory, the genuine poet would still be reluctant, even if he 
were able, to remove, entirely, the beneficent veil. Of this 
view of nature, so mysterious and rich in sentiment, few, if 
any, traces are to be found in Greek and E-oraan poets, 
whilst they abound in the old northern bards, who lived in 
constant sympathy with nature. These natural descriptions 
and fancies should not, however, be isolated, in poetry, from 
the contemplation of man, of whom they constitute the 
choicest ornament. If they are, the picture of the world, 
painted by poetry, loses some portion of its completeness as 
a whole, general harmony is disturbed, and the effect marred. 
Therefore, the form, which treats of nature scientifically, 
after the manner of Lucretius, is, in reality, a mistaken one, 
and, like his philosophy, objectionable : yet he challenges 
our sympathies as a man, and as a poet fills us with the high- 
est admiration. 

The great Eoman writers will be most conveniently con- 
sidered in the order of their respective periods. The last 
days of the Eepublic witnessed a less finished development 
of diction, but were, otherwise, richer, in a literary point 01 
view, than the Augustan age. As an orator, Cicero is 
marked by sufficient variety and practice in his art : the mag- 
nitude of his subjects, and the position he occupies in the his- 
tory of the world, invest his orations with a high degree of dig- 
nity. Yet, it is difficult to understand how a style so redun- 
dant in expression as his could have been regarded as a pattern 
of good writing. Of his contemporaries, there were some who 
censured his tendency to Asiatic pomposity. The greatest 
service he rendered to the literary culture of his country 



GREAT EOMAtf WRITERS. 69 

was his introduction of the higher moral philosophy of the 
Greeks. For the more abstruse speculations, in whose mazes 
the spirit of the Greeks loved to wander, and in which they 
displayed an infinity of art, Cicero had as little inclination or 
faculty as any other E-oman. But as a fond lover of phi- 
losophy, whose society he courted, for solace, in the hour of 
misfortune, or for the retirement of lettered ease, when 
weary of the noisy din and bustle of public business, he made 
a happy and judicious selection. He attached himself to 
the tenets of Plato, as most favourable to a general and 
beautiful mental culture, and recognized by collective an- 
tiquity as the very acme of perfection in genius and lan- 
guage. But, as Plato's later successors — at whose hands 
the Romans, directly, received these doctrines — had become 
thoroughly sceptical, inasmuch as their great master had 
practised philosophy only as an art, without reducing it to a 
system, Cicero often betook himself, for practical advice and 
information, to the maxims of the Stoics : and where the 
stubbornness that characterized this school, was not con- 
genial to his views, he had recourse to Aristotle, who is, in 
all things, fond of the middle path, and who, in morals, con- 
stitutes the felicitous medium between Stoic severity and 
Epicurean apathy. To the latter he was decidedly averse, 
nor unjustly so. It must not, indeed, be presumed that all 
those who, in antiquity, agreed with Epicurus so far as to 
consider the pursuit of pleasure the highest and final aim of 
life, likewise accepted or acted upon the various objection- 
able inferences that may be legitimately drawn from his 
principles. Yet, whilst there were, unquestionably, various 
modifications and constructions of these doctrines, some 
holding, with Aristippus, that pleasure consisted of sensual 
gratifications, others that it meant a placid and painless con- 
dition of inward satisfaction, which the better Epicureans 
as well as other Greek philosophers sought for chiefly in 
mental exercise and intercourse with congenial friends, 
all concurred in this particular : that a total secession from 
public and civil business constituted a fundamental prin- 
ciple of a wisely regulated mode of life. In their effect- 
on daily practice, these doctrines were, eminently, selfish and 
unnational, and having, at the first, had many adherents at 
"Rome, they contributed not a little to its corruption. 



70 CICEEO. 

Cicero, a foe to Epicurus and his system, is, on the other 
hand, a thoroughly patriotic thinker. Hence his philosophy 
has often been the delight of statesmen, who, without any 
inborn taste, or leisure, for speculation, yet were glad to 
devote their moments of leisure to contemplation. 

In form and diction Cicero is extremely unequal : a fea- 
ture frequently observable in Roman writers, since they 
were not always successful in making their own mental 
efforts harmonize completely, with what they borrowed from 
the Greeks. 

Caesar is the first in whom we find perfect evenness of 
expression. When he handled the pen, he was guided by 
the self-same principles as when he wielded the sword: 
directing his attention uninterruptedly to one sole object, 
and to it making all else subservient. He is in complete 
possession of the qualities next only to liveliness in historic 
writing — clearness and simplicity. But how strikingly does 
the lucid brevity of Caesar, hastening to attain its object, and 
treating all else as superfluous, differ from the diffuse, Homer- 
like garrulity and transparency of Herodotus! As a general 
arranges his forces, with the greatest economy of strength con- 
sistent with safety, and makes the most of every advantage he 
may have over the enemy, so, Caesar musters his words, and 
marshals his sentences with consummate skill and care; and 
just as inexorably did he pursue the advantage that victory 
gave him on the battle field. Of all those who have re- 
corded their own exploits, notwithstanding bis Attic grace, 
Xenophon is too inferior a politician or a general to be com- 
pared with Caesar. "We are not in a position to criticise the lite- 
rary merits of annals penned by some of Alexander's captains, 
or by Hannibal, for they have not reached us. As a writer, 
then, the Roman when judged by the productions of others, 
under similar circumstances, is still Caesar, the invincible. 

In description of character, and as an historical painter 
generally, Sallust is truly grand : but his style is not quite 
so even, so clear, or always so apt as that of Caesar. There 
is an occasional forced stiffness, with an affectation of quaint- 
ness. Even in history, the form of which, as it originated 
in the Greek Republics, might seem peculiarly adapted to 
Roman genius, imitation of some special model — in this case 
Thucydides — was not without injurious consequences. 



HORACE. 71 

This first flourishing period of Bom an intellect and ora- 
tory clearly demonstrates how great an advantage it is to 
literature to command the sympathies and active co-opera- 
tion of leading public men. Their very position enables 
them to take a general oversight of the whole, and to con- 
sider literary matters in their most extensive relations. 
This was one circumstance that imparted a peculiar gran- 
deur to Roman literature. On the commencement of a new 
order of things after the death of Brutus, a spirit altogether 
novel pervaded the literature of the Augustan age. The 
free action of eloquence was manacled : on the other hand, 
men's minds turned once more to poetry, whose voice could 
find no general sympathy amidst the din and bloodshed of 
the Civil Wars. But now, as if to inaugurate the return of 
peace and the happy sway of Augustus, the advent of a na- 
tional poetry embodying patriotic sentiment in classic dic- 
tion, was eagerly looked for, to contribute her embellishments 
to the general splendour. To accomplish this, not only 
Virgil, but Propertius and Horace, too, were encouraged, 
nay, earnestly solicited by the first men in the state to attune 
their lyre. On account of his artistic style, Propertius was 
well qualified to be an epic poet ; but he wanted to be free, and 
lived entirely as his own genius led him, passionately devoted 
to the feelings of generous friendship and ardent love, with 
which his whole soul was animated, and his fervent song dis- 
tinguished above all other Roman bards. Of the poets that 
have come down to us entire, Horace possessed perhaps the 
greatest share of heroic grandeur. He was a patriot who locked 
up within his bosom the pangs he felt at Republican decline, 
mingling, in order to alleviate his pain, in life's gayest scenes, 
and poetizing. At every opportunity, his patriotic enthusiasm 
and aspiration after freedom, peer from beneath the smiles 
of assumed gaiety. He dared not undertake a long poem, 
founded on some traditionary legend of his country's infancy, 
without risking the betrayal of sentiments that would have 
been unseasonable, and no less unpalatable. He, therefore, 
could not respond to their reiterated appeals. 

Peaceful, artistic, tender Yirgil was most especially fitted 
owing to his love of nature and of rural life, to become the 
national poet of the Romans. The old Roman, as indeed 
the old Italian, mode of life, generally, was altogether 



72 VIEGIL. 

founded on agriculture and country life ; whilst the Greeks 
were, for the most part, a community of traders, navigators, 
and merchants. Even the most distinguished and eminent 
Romans in the good old time, lived in conformity with the 
simple habits and tastes of rural life, and, in spite of the 
corruption of the metropolis, remnants of sound and vigo- 
rous moral feeling, the usual concomitants of agricultural 
pursuits, were far from being destroyed in the rest of 
Italy. This point had to be borne in mind by the bard who 
aspired to the dignity of becoming the national poet of his 
country, and who intended not to confine his sphere of action 
within metropolitan limits. Virgil's fondness for nature 
and for rustic life is sufficiently manifest in his Eclogues, 
the production of his youth, whilst he has shewn his ma- 
tured master-spirit in his more finished poem, the Georgics. 
Would that he had not framed his admirable lays, 
which are altogether so fitted to the now peaceful Rome and 
which- breathe the genuine old Italian spirit, in the foreign, 
didactic form of Alexandrine verse ; and that he had incor- 
porated his views of nature and of agriculture in his great 
Epic dedicated to the glorious reminiscences of his country, 
and thus bequeathed to us a complete and comprehensive 
picture of old Italian manners ! It would have been the 
means of effectually reviving native heroic tradition, and 
of securing for it a firm and permanent footing. But then 
he would have had to sketch his Epic in bolder outlines, 
and with a looser connection. In the circumscribed arrange- 
ment he has adopted, the latter Italian portion of his poem 
presents a striking contrast to the first half, in which he 
was enabled to interweave the origin of Rome, so happily, 
with the magnificent legends of Troy. Nevertheless, the 
iEneid, which the poet left unfinished, and considered so 
unsatisfactory as to desire its annihilation, has justly re- 
mained the real national poem of the Romans. If we judged 
by the soaring flight of enthusiasm alone, or happy facility 
of innate genius, we might perhaps be inclined to award the 
superiority to Lucretius and Ovid : but Virgil's especial ex- 
cellence lies in the national feeling which he most thoroughly 
expresses. To complete perfection the iEneid cannot, in- 
deed, lay claim : for we miss in it that symmetry which 
is wanting in most of the Roman poets, owing to the con- 



UNEVEN LYRIC STYLE. 73 

3ict between native power and acquired art. In Virgil, 
the deficiency appears in representation and language, but 
rncst of all in the arrangement of the whole. 

This inequality is still more apparent in the style of 
Horace, and the other lyric poets. Among various nations, 
the epic is the form that differs least, though it is not to be 
denied that Homeric imitation cramped and misled both 
Virgil and many after him. But, independently of form, 
the process of mixing the heroic legends of one people 
with those of another is comparatively easy, since there is 
so much akin in the varied mythology of nations, though 
separated ever so widely. The explanation of this is 
twofold : either the universal condition of humanity in 
primitive times of youthful and elastic vigour is much the 
same in many particulars ; or that the accordance, some- 
times extremely singular, evidences the common origin 
of man, especially as regards the allegorical symbols em- 
ployed in this kind of poetry. The legendary epics of all 
races have many points of contact, and every where vibrate 
in accordant tones of mutual sympathy: though it were 
difficult to restore the lost thread of connexion, and, not 
merely to demonstrate critically how all the great legends 
of the ancient world sprang from one common source, but, 
likewise to combine the whole in poetry and inform them 
with fresh life. Tor the purposes of serious dramatic poetry, 
an acquaintance with the degree of elevation attained in art 
by other nations, may serve, on the whole, to guide us in de- 
termining how far our aspirations may tend, aud what con- 
stitutes the boundary of human possibility. Yet, mere form 
ls not to be the object of imitation : if the stage is to be at- 
tended with general beneficial results, it should be founded 
on national lore, historical or legendary, and be proportioned 
to the habits, character, and thoughts of the people for 
whom it is specially composed. 

Of all imitated forms, the lyric is peculiarly hurtful and 
objectionable. For what greater value or attraction can 
a lyric poem have than that of being a free outburst of 
genuine feeling ? On the other hand, what is there that can 
compensate for the absence of this charm, when a spurious 
warmth is simulated, and where art completely usurps the 
place of nature ? In Eoman poets, the very passages that 



74 ROMAN SATIRE. 

have been borrowed, and those that are native, can be re- 
spectively distinguished. Notwithstanding this inequality, 
Horace stirs our sympathies more than any other Ro- 
man poet, as a man. He rises highest in those portions 
of his works, in which he addresses to us the actual lan- 
guage of Bo mans, recalling the olden splendour, invoking 
Regulus the noble patriot, and citing others who, in his own 
forcible words, were " prodigal of their great souls." 

In the only species of poetry which the Romans created 
for themselves, in satire, Horace is, by far, the most spirited 
writer. This species, distinct in form from the common 
ludicrous lyric poetry, and couched in epic verse of greater 
licence, is purely Roman in its spirit and contents. Through- 
out, it treats of the social relations of the metropolis, intro- 
duces the current jests of the day, and alludes to the moral 
corruption that flowed into Rome from half the globe. A 
poetic picture of real life can only be furnished us by means 
of the Drama, when in a high state of perfection : but in- 
dividual traits, in however spirited a manner they may be 
drawn, cannot constitute dramatic painting. Hence Roman 
satire, conceived in the master-spirit of Horace himself, is, 
at the most, a substitute for Comedy, which the Romans 
may be said never to have actually possessed : at least, no 
native power of their own that ever ripened into full de- 
velopment. And even when the enthusiasm of satire rises 
to the pitch of magnificent invective against vice and folly, 
as in Juvenal, such enthusiasm may be morally worthy of 
admiration, but, after all, it is not poetry. 

Prose attained to a much higher pitch of elevation, than 
poetry, among the Romans : Livy may be considered to 
have been almost perfect as to language, and the rhetorical 
form of History, peculiar to the ancients, received from his 
hand whatsoever it still lacked of artistic elegance. 

The first half of the long reign of Augustus should be 
looked upon as the harvest-time of intellectual products that 
had been ripening ever since the latter days of the Republic, 
when political grandeur was no mere abstraction, and when 
the genius of freedom walked abroad. 

The younger generation, born, or, at least, bred, under 
the Monarchy, bore the impress of a different character. 
So early as the end of Augustus' reign, symptoms of declin- 



HISTORY. 75 

ing taste made their appearance, and, first, in the imagina- 
tive conceits and effeminate diction of Ovid. 

The rapid deterioration of History, in which the Eomans 
excelled, under the fearful tyranny of the later Caesars, is 
amply evidenced by the mannerism of Velleius Paterculus, 
not to speak of his despicable flattery. Seneca, the philo- 
sopher, originated a sententious and highly affected style of 
composition. In proportion as despotism increased in rigo- 
rous harshness, those who still resisted it in spirit, attached 
themselves more closely to the tenets of Stoicism, the genius 
of which could not but be acceptable to the proud indepen- 
dent spirit that was surrounded, on all sides, by mean ser- 
vility and fawning sycophancy. Pomposity, extravagance, 
and affectation are not unfrequently found in the train of 
political and social coercion. In Lucan, they are strangely 
coupled with pretentious republican enthusiasm : our sur- 
prise is mingled with contempt when we find the same poet 
lauding Nero in terms of almost criminal adulation, and in 
the same breath impiously exalting Cato above the gods ! 
As though not utterly renouncing the associations of her 
childhood, Roman poetry returns, in Lucan, to the form of 
the historical epic. Considered on its own merits, any great 
historical event may justly furnish matter for an epic : how 
remote, or how near, chronologically, signifies very little, so 
that its inward constitution be suitable. To this end, feel- 
ing, enthusiasm, fancy, should have greater scope afforded 
for their exercise than mere arrangement of plan, or order 
of proceeding. Thus, in the instance of Alexander, whose life 
and deeds, such as the fall of Darius, and the Indian expedi- 
tion, might have furnished ample materials for poetic re- 
quirements, had any poet lived, at that period, capable of 
celebrating them worthily. The civil war of Caesar and 
Pompey, a contest between opposite faction and policy, has, 
indeed, furnished many themes of dramatic representation 
in modern times, yet, no amount of genius or art could have 
availed to mould these into epic form. The picture of 
the taste of this age is completed by mentioning the ob- 
scurity of Persius, and the forced style of the elder Pliny ; 
though the works of this last writer are so far valuable that 
they testify what the Romans might have contributed to the 
extension of human knowledge, had they oftener chosen to ap- 



76 TACITUS, 

■ply the means which unbounded rule placed at their com. 
mand. 

Better times succeeded, and, once more, a Roman of the 
grand ancient model swayed the civilized world on the 
throne of Augustus. As Trajan is the last of the Caesars 
whose intellect reached the standard of true Roman great- 
ness, so Tacitus, who, as a writer, is entitled to a similar 
meed of approbation, closes the list of Roman authors of the 
first distinction. He began life under Vespasian and Titus, 
— the first good emperors after Nero — in Domitian's reign 
he had learnt to observe and be silent, and under JN"erva he 
anticipated the splendour that was destined in Trajan's time, 
to illumine Rome with brilliant though setting glories. 

The profundity of his genius, and his peculiar expression 
so suitable to its conveyance, are more distinctly apparent, 
from the numerous failures of those, who, in vain, have sought 
to imitate him. His expression is, indeed, faultless, though 
the language at his command cannot be supposed to have 
been as grand as when Caesar wrote, or as artistic as the 
materials of Livy. In this glorious trio, the language ap- 
pears to me to have attained the climax of its respective 
purity and eminence : in Caesar, unadorned simplicity and 
grandeur ; in Livy, rhetorical splendour, of beautiful 
natural proportions ; in Tacitus, profound artistic strength, 
invested with the dignity of ancient Rome. 



LECTURE IV. 



Brief duration oe Roman Literature. — New epoch 
under Hadrian. — Ineluence oe Oriental thought 
over, the philosophy, oe the West. — Mosaic re- 
cords, Hebrew poesy. — The Persian religion. — 
Idea oe the Bible, and characteristics oe the 
Old Testament. 

The exotic character of literature and philosophy as 
Roman products, is seen from the paucity of Latin authors 
contrasted with the rich collection of Grecian genius, as 



ROMAN" TRANSLATIONS EROM THE GREEK. 77 

also from the, comparatively, short period during which 
Eonian art and culture flourished. 

As regards translations from the Greek tongue, or indi- 
vidual poets and original writers, Rome could boast of some 
of these ever since the days when the Scipios patronized the 
literature and rhetoric of the Greeks j when the elder Cato 
made the history, manners, and language, of his ancestors the 
objects of his investigation, in order to maintain the integrity 
of Eoman thought against the encroachments of Grecian in- 
novation : and when Ennius partially applied Greek art and 
versification to Eoman themes, and instituted the older 
school of Eoman poetry. Eut if, by flourishing literature, we 
mean something more than a disjointed fragmentary series 
of ill-assorted efforts : if we expect a certain connection and 
unity in all its parts, a fixed and regular meaning attached 
to words, especially in prose, a continuous transmission and 
extension of acquirements affecting language, rhetoric, and 
intellectual culture generally ; in that case, Eoman litera- 
ture cannot strictly date before the time of Cicero, who 
took a prominent, nay, the leading part, in its establishment. 
Until his day, all rhetorical instruction was thoroughly 
Greek, % being conveyed by means of Greek books and in the 
Greek language.* It was he who promoted public scien- 
tific teaching by means of the Latin tongue, which he so suc- 
cessfully employed for philosophical purposes and for the 
theory of eloquence. Through him the language was both 
extended in its application and fixed in certain limits and 
definite boundaries, to which the grammatical writings of 
Csesar and Varro also greatly contributed. Next to Cicero, 
these two claim the distinction of having erected the solid 
structure of genuine Eoman literature, Caesar by hisfurthering 
the interests of learning by his oratory, and by his exertions 
to disseminate a scientific knowledge of the language of 
which he was himself so great a master, fashioning it in 
well-defined proportions and thus materially augmenting its 
power. Yarro assisted, in the capacity of a learned collector 
of valuable works, and an accurate enquirer into the anti- 

* It will be remembered that Cicero sent his own son, Marcus, to 
Athens, to study under Cratippus. See his " De Officiis," Lib. I. cap. I. 
— Translator s note. 



78 CLASSIC PETIIOD OF ROMAN LITERATURE. 

quities of his country, in making that the actual period ot 
nourishing Roman literature.* The most remarkable writers 
previous to Trajan, have been briefly considered in the pre- 
ceding remarks. The last work of any note produced in 
this flourishing age of Roman intellect is the panegyric of 
the younger Pliny on Trajan. A worthy subject for the 
final effort of declining eloquence, an art in which the in- 
competence of Pliny's feeble imitators was as conspicuous 
as the imbecility of Trajan's successors in the purple. 

The classic period of Roman literature, reckoning from 
the Consulate of Cicero to the death of Trajan, did not, then, 
exceed one hundred and eighty years. That time is, like- 
wise, distinguished for the first scientific development of 
practical jurisprudence, peculiar to the Romans, and in 
which they displayed great ability and skill. Cicero and 
Caesar were the first to conceive the design of collecting and 
arranging the immense mass of Roman statutory laws ; in 
the reign of Augustus two classes of jurists prevailed, the 
one inclining to a mild and merciful, the other to a strictly 
literal and severe interpretation of the law ; under Hadrian 
the establishment of a complete legal digest, called the Per- 
petual Edict, furnished the very remedy that Cicero and 
Caesar had contemplated. 

Hadrian inaugurates an epoch altogether new, not only 
as concerns the principles of government, but also mental 
cultivation. The language and literature of Greece gradu- 
ally reasserted their natural rights, and extended their in- 
tellectual sway over the civilized world which was now poli- 
tically one under the Emperors of Rome. 

Whilst Roman writers of any importance rapidly de- 
creased after Trajan, and even these, when contrasted with 
their predecessors, appear to lose what little merit they may 
have seemed to possess, till, at last, the list of these, too, 
grows extinct: a new life stirred in Greek literature and 
philosophy, a general mental activity, a rich after-crop of 
Grecian genius, frequently not unworthy, both in descrip- 

* Having-, in his youth, been Admiral of the Greek fleet in the piratical 
war, Vurro was subsequently appointed by Caesar to be his librarian, 
where be bad ample means of cultivating- bis literary tastes. He shaved 
Cicero's banishment, but was recalled by Aug-ustus. — Trandatm %, & note. 



RHETORICAL TREATMENT OF SCIENTIFIC SUBJECTS. 79 

tire power and in language, of the palmy days of its literature, 
but certainly every way superior to the age that immediately 
preceded. It is true that no further efforts of the muse 
rose above humble mediocrity : but philosophy and rhetoric 
were all the more zealously cultivated, and instead of beiug 
separated and opposed, as in old Attic times, they were 
blended together in ever increasing harmony. The 
Socratic mode of philosophizing, as in Plato's dialogues, 
was no longer acceptable, either in design or expression : 
manners, and, indeed, all the arrangements of life assumed 
by that method, were altogether too foreign to the prevalent 
social taste. The scientific severity of Aristotle was suited 
only to very few. In their stead arose a new rhetorical 
treatment of scientific subjects, which flourished in full 
vigour, from the time of Hadrian and the Antonines, to that 
of the emperor Julian, and produced some excellent writers. 
Another instance is afforded, if proof were wanting, of the 
truth of the remark, that whilst there were some periods in 
which Greek poetry attained to a high degree of inventive 
genius and grandeur, and others that were totally unfavour- 
able to its growth, rhetoric, an art which the Greeks made 
peculiarly their own, flourished during all vicissitudes of 
time and circumstance, and disappeared only for a season 
to emerge with increased splendour. 

Of the great mass of writers of this latter period of 
ancient Greek literature, serving, as a whole, principally in 
an historical point of view to indicate particular sources of 
information, or, in some measure, to compensate for the loss 
of more important names, there are, nevertheless, a few, 
possessing some intrinsic merit. At the head of these is 
Plutarch, whose Lives, in spite of considerable errors of 
style and judgment, are, yet, replete with genuine treasures 
of moral precept, the value of which time has not availed to 
diminish. His style is overcharged, and sometimes con- 
fused. The copious remarks of his own that he has inter- 
spersed throughout the memoirs of his heroes, require to be 
carefully sifted: now and then there are some neither 
pointed nor appropriate. Throughout the whole, however, 
the noblest integrity of feeling reigns, and a full acquaintance 
is manifested with all the moral masterpieces of classic an- 
tiquity, well-digested, and animated by the purest spirit. 



80 LUCIA^'S PICTTTKE OF HIS TIMES. 

That style, as an art, was not completely extinct, and that 
Attic wit still lived, we have satisfactory evidence in Lucian. 
As a spirited writer in the mixed species of philosophical 
satire, he has few equals, and is inestimable as a delineator 
of the manners of the age. In his history, Arrian, generally 
reckoned the best biographer of Alexander, deserves com- 
parison with Xenophon for beautiful simplicity. Marcus 
Aurelius, the last of the eminent and virtuous Caesars, occu- 
pies too honourable a position in the history of humanity, 
not to deserve to be recorded for his literary merits also : he 
composed, in Greek, a series of Stoic self-contemplative ob- 
servations of considerable worth. Whilst Herodian sketched 
the history of the unworthy successors of Aurelius, in a 
manner scarcely to be expected at this period. 

Greek philosophers of various sects were invited by 
Antoninus Pius, in great numbers, to undertake tutorial 
posts, and this important class of men were regularly, so to 
speak, taken into the service of the state. It was now expected 
of Stoic philosophy to prop and support the tottering creed of 
the people. Lucian forcibly reminds us of the decay of this old 
belief in the gods and in general mythology, of the prevalence 
of scepticism, free thinking, and infidelity, throughout the 
whole Roman world; whilst the fact that Sextus Empiricus, 
themost copiouswriterof the sceptical school, is contemporary 
with this age, is a strong presumption of the universal fer- 
ment, and newly aroused activity of the exploring philosophi- 
cal mind. Again, Lucian, in his witty picture of the times, 
proves the general tendency there was to fanaticism, the su- 
perstition of science gradually supplanting the olden poetic 
credulity ; belief in astrology and an inclination to magic arts 
being sown broadcast, by means of many secret societies, and 
also publicly taught in writings, and, orally, by philosophers. 
The influence of oriental modes of thought, theories of the uni- 
verse, and demonology, introducing together with the pure 
sources of truth, likewise streams of deeper and more fervid 
fanaticism than the younger and colder philosophy of the 
West could conceive or devise, spread further and further. 
Even in architecture, as renewed under Hadrian, the predo- 
minant Egyptian taste shewed an evident leaning to oriental- 
ism. Plutarch, though following Plato, exhibits Platonic phi- 
Isophy in a later form, when it began to embody all that 



NEW PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY. 81 

vet remained of the doctrine of Pythagoras, or, at least, 
that passed by the name of Pythagorean, of Egyptian origin, 
— and to approximate nearer to old oriental tradition, from 
which Plato himself is supposed to have drawn some of his 
views. 

This new Platonic philosophy soon became dominant: 
the other sects, namely, the Sceptic, Epicurean, and even 
the Stoic lost their individuality. Yet many Stoic tenets 
entered as elements into this one comprehensive philosophy 
of the Greeks, which, from its principal component, received 
the name of New- Platonic. It was this system which long 
assailed Christianity with the utmost energy of intellect, and, 
under the Emperor Julian, hoped to be successful in defeat- 
ing it, and to place the old popular belief on a firmer basis, 
and to renovate it by giving it a more spiritual meaning. 

This struggle between Christianity on the one hand and 
heathen philosophy on the other, old polytheism and the 
new creed, poetical mythology and a Eeligion of Morality, 
is the most remarkable intellectual contest ever witnessed 
or achieved by humanity. It forms the partition- wall of two 
contiguous worlds : receding antiquity, and the beginning of 
modern time. With reference to civilization and mental 
culture, it is the common centre and turning-point of all 
progressive development. But this great contest, so im- 
portant in its results, to be suitably described in a history of 
Literature which is not confined to mere philological en- 
quiry but aspires to a delineation of its infiueuce on the 
destiny of nations and on collective humanity, demands fur- 
ther preliminary investigation. It will, first, be necessary 
to examine, more particularly, the actual spirit of Greek 
philosophy, and, having determined upon the precise posi- 
tions taken by the Mosaic and Christian doctrines in the his- 
tory of mankind, we will then proceed to take a rapid survey 
of other oriental traditions which, in part, were connected 
with the Mosaic and Christian teaching, and, in part 9 consti- 
tuted the primitive sources of loftier Greek perception. 

Further opportunities will occur of sketching the poetic 
magnificence, fanciful imagery, and interesting works of art, 
that the inventive genius of man has produced. "We must, 
for the present, be content with directing attention exclu- 
sivelv to that point which desirable and necessary curiosity 



S2 ARISTOTELIAN DOCTRINE. 

has fixed as the centre of all improvement and of the history 
of the human mind. 

Plato and Aristotle were the greatest masters, or rather 
they may be considered as indicating the whole compass, of 
Greek intelligence. Plato treated philosophy entirely as an 
art, Aristotle as a science : in the former we see Eeason, in 
its calm state of contemplation, admiring the attributes of 
supreme Perfection. Whilst Aristotle considered Eeason, 
in reference to its properties of spontaneous activity and 
instrumentality : not merely as the motive power of human 
thought and being, but likewise as the immaterial principle 
of action in the manifold phenomena of nature. Plato is the 
perfection of Grecian art ; Aristotle the essence of Grecian 
science. 

When Plato refutes the Sophists, pursuing them through 
the winding maze of intricate doubt and confusion, he him- 
self becomes subtle and hypercritical : sometimes, with all 
his Attic art and beautiful refinement, he becomes unintel- 
ligible and sophistical like the doctrine he combats. Yet, 
the prominent idea of his philosophy is ever clearly visible. 
According to his theory, there dwells in man a dim reminis- 
cence of Divine perfection. This innate implanted memory 
of the Divine, is, as it were, faint and indistinct, inasmuch 
as the world of sense, itself imperfect and subject to change, 
presents us with incomplete, variable, and erroneous im- 
pressions, thereby darkening the original rays of light 
within us. Again, whenever anything appears in the world 
of sense and in nature, resembling some property of the 
Divinity or some lineament of supreme Perfection, this 
latent dormant reminiscence awakes. Beauty animates 
the spectator with admiration and love that are not directed 
to the beautiful object itself, at least not to its corporeal 
presence, but rather the invisible ideal. In this admiration, 
this aroused reminiscence, this enthusiasm that takes com- 
plete possession of the faculties, spring all higher know- 
ledge and truth : and are, therefore, not produced by calm 
reflection, by means of a process of voluntary and systema- 
tic thought, but being far beyond the power of the will, or 
reflection, or mere art, are communicated by Divine inspira- 
tion. 

Thus, Plato assumes a supernatural source of thought aa 



CONTEMPLATION OP DIVINITY. 83 

necessary for the knowledge of the Divinity and Divine 
things, and this is the essential characteristic of his philoso- 
phy. The dialectic part of his works is only the negative, in 
the course of which he refutes error with masterly art, or, 
with still greater and hitherto matchless skill, leads us step 
by step to the threshold of Truth. But when he would 
conduct us within her sacred precincts, in the positive 
portion of his work, he adopts oriental allegory and 
poetic myth ; in perfect accordance with the fundamental 
idea of his system, respecting a higher source of percep- 
tion, namely, Enthusiasm, Inspiration, or [Revelation. 
]t must not be denied that his philosophy is left un- 
finished, and he himself never attained to perfect clear- 
ness and precision of view. This is particularly obvious 
in the disunion, nowhere very intelligibly explained by 
his philosophy, of the elements of Keason and Love or En- 
thusiasm. When speaking of the love of the beautiful, 
and of divine enthusiasm — as influencing man : — when ex- 
pressly recognizing that these emotions, from which he 
deduces all higher truth, transport the mind beyond the 
boundaries of pure thought and reason, and contain loftier 
ideas than are attainable by these alone, then Plato would 
appear to entertain and pre-suppose more lively and experi- 
mental notions of the perfection of Divinity. But when he 
employs only his dialectic art, he r not unfrequently, falls into 
the usual representations of the immutable and unconditional 
unity of Keason, as the highest conception of complete per- 
fection. In this, he was, doubtless, in some measure fet- 
tered by the influence and authority of the older philosophers. 
On the whole, his doctrines remained in the unfinished state 
in which he left them, deducing Divine truth from mere 
reminiscence and expressing the same in allegory : a renewed 
Greek reminiscence of primeval Asiatic philosophy, and an 
imperfect foreshadowing and presentiment of Christianity, 
wrapt in the splendour of Attic genius and art, and Socratic 
ethics. 

By means of the Socratic philosophy he was, in a cer- 
tain measure, preserved from a visionary extravagance, as 
also were his immediate followers at Athens, whom the 
incompleteness of his philosophy drove again into the 
depths of doubt and scepticism. But, in reality, the ten- 



84 SUPERNATURAL SOURCES OP KNOWLEDGE. 

dency to the visionary, which was so strongly developed 
in his successors, was involved in his mode of thought 
and his principles. A recognition, such as his, of super- 
natural sources of knowledge, undefined in his theory, a 
dim recollection, enthusiasm, and divine inspiration conduct- 
ing man beyond the boundaries of thoughtful consideration, 
inevitably led to this aberration. A more fixed and steady 
impulse was wanting to fashion this vague and wavering 
presentiment of truth into resolute conviction, into genuine 
belief : the Divine word which solves the enigma of the 
Eternal and discriminates between false inspiration and true 
^Revelation. 

When, therefore, the later disciples of Plato sought to 
complete the unfinished system of their master by means of 
oriental ideas and traditions, their efforts were not, indeed, 
in strict conformity with Attic principles of taste and judg- 
ment, or the Socratic spirit of his doctrines, but not very re- 
pugnant to his philosophy, or avowed tenets respecting 
supernatural sources of information : on that very principle 
all oriental systems and traditions, more or less, rested. 

The fundamental and all-pervading tenet of Aristotle's me- 
thod cannot by any means be discerned with equal clearness, 
on account of his great obscurity, with which even his most 
devoted adherents have, in all ages, had to find fault. Yet, the 
spirit of his philosophy is abundantly manifest in its results, 
and intimately connected with that same obscurity which 
has been so generally admitted and censured. How comes 
it that this great genius, this perfect master of expression 
and of thought, in every department of experimental science 
a most enlightened observer and acute critic, the actual 
founder of a definite method of exact thought, who first sys- 
tematized scientific reflexion and the practice of logic, is 
nevertheless so unsatisfactory and unintelligible when ad- 
dressing himself to such lofty questions as the destiny and 
origin of man, of Grod, of the world ? Simply because, not 
accepting Plato's doctrine concerning the supernatural 
source of knowledge, which appeared to him both contrary 
to science and unsatisfactory, he held that Reason and Ex- 
perience ought alone to be regarded as the real sources of 
all knowledge. These two, namely, Eeason and Experience, 
he endeavours to connect and unite by the introduction of 



ENIGMA OF LIFE. 85 

every intermediate contrivance. He was so enamoured of this 
method, that he pronounced Virtue to consist in the avoid- 
ance of extremes, and placed it in the mean between two 
opposite faults. He had recourse to the same remedy, when 
he attempted to adjust the old difference — in a scientific 
consideration of the external world — namely, a view of the 
eternal and unchangeable principle, clashing with the conti- 
nual mutability of external created matter. The first divine 
cause of all motion, he says, is itself immoveable, but every- 
thing in this our sublunary world is subject to continual 
change and motion. Midway between these two opposite 
extremes, he places the sidereal heavens, or the astral world, 
which, though not moving by spontaneous will, is neverthe- 
less nearer to the first great Cause, inasmuch as its rotatory 
motion is perfect and eternal. In like manner, that he 
might fill up the mighty chasm between sense and reason, 
he conceived the idea of a passive suffering intellect, as an 
objective and intermediate common sense between the two. 
All this deserves our admiration on the score of shrewd 
invention, even though it may not be perfectly satisfactory : 
indeed, this method may be productive of the happiest re- 
sults, when we wish to comprehend a peculiar subject, just 
as it is, and to consider it on all sides. But when applied to 
questions of such paramount importance — which man can 
never lose sight of — as human destiny, the Divine nature, the 
enigma of life, existence generally, and the origin of all things: 
neither Experience nor Reason give a satisfactory solution. 
The evidence of pure sense conducts the enquirer to denial and 
unbelief : Eeason is bewildered in her own confusion, and 
when addressing herself to such simple and inevitable topics, 
presents us with mere unintelligible formulas. This remark 
is peculiarly applicable to Aristotle, whose philosophy hangs 
suspended between a baseless Idealism and a material Experi- 
ence. If we consider the great majority of his elaborate in- 
vestigations, especially as applied to physics or moral 
philosophy, the latter element — Experience — seems to pre- 
dominate, and Aristotle presents himself to our view as the 
great master of ancient empiric philosophy ; not only be- 
cause of the immense extent of his information, but also 
from the method he adopts in the process of his investiga- 
tions, and the principles he has deduced. Nevertheless, the 



86 GEEAT FIRST CAUSE. 

radical idea characteristic of his metaphysical doctrine is, 
indubitably, the ideal conception of self-governing action, or 
Entelechia. But if, instead of a literal conception of the 
world, as a whole, he supplies us only with isolated observa- 
tions respecting individualities, or when seeking to compre- 
hend the great first Cause, he offers us mere formulas and 
empty abstractions concerning the nature of things : con- 
clusions similarly unsatisfactory are arrived at by all who 
have taken Aristotle's course, and have wished to explain 
all by means of self-consciousness, reason, or experience, 
ignoring every loftier source of information, revelation, and 
tradition of the truth. 

The number of those who have trodden the same, or a 
similar, path in philosophy with Aristotle, is countless. In 
antiquity he himself had but few disciples : then came a time, 
when the name of those who, throughout the schools of the 
East and "West, professed his doctrine without comprehend- 
ing the spirit of their master, was Legion. Since then, the 
errors of his scholars have been put to his account, and 
though at first idolised, he has been vilified and contemned. 
Yet there have been not a few, down to our own day, 
who, almost unconsciously, have adhered to his philosophy : 
some, who knew him not at all, or, at most, very little; 
others, who had been his most bitter opponents. The 
former include such as, having entered upon a course of ab- 
struse self-thought, soon turned off into a by-path of ideal 
obscurity, in character similar to that of the Stagyrite, and 
their number is small ; the latter, from Locke downwards, 
have laboured to set up Experience as the sole fountain of 
information even for philosophic purposes : whence if they 
would proceed scientifically, they can never altogether dis- 
pense with abstract thought, and therefore must, ultimately, 
acknowledge formulas akin to those of Aristotle. 

Thus, these two great master-spirits, Plato* and Aristotle, 
have to a certain extent exhausted the whole essence of 
human thought and knowledge. Imperfectly understood 
in their own generation, they exercised the greater influence 
on posterity, whose intellect, for many a century, they all 

* With reference to Plato's system, modified and adapted to the views 
of the Eclectics, the curious reader is referred to the works of Brucker, 
Stanley, and Professor Mainer. — Translator's note. 



LATER PHILOSOPHY OF THE GREEKS. 87 

but exclusively led, not m the various departments of 
science only, but likewise determined the great principles 
that regulate life. To this day, after the lapse of twenty 
centuries, when the mind has received a vast accession of 
information from a thousand discoveries, when we are ena- 
bled to set off whole libraries containing valuable records of 
antiquity, and statistics of philosophical enquiry, against the 
few volumes at Plato's command ; when Aristotle's inge- 
nious views of the universe appear to us like the notions of 
childhood ; when Christianity has afforded us a livelier in- 
sight into the ways of Grod and the nature of man : these 
two reasoners still maintain their pre-eminence ; they still 
mark the capabilities of the human mind; even now, every 
kind of philosophy is, necessarily, either Platonic or Aristo- 
telian, or an attempt more or less successful to fuse the ele- 
ments of both these methods of philosophizing into one. 
"Whosoever admits a loftier tradition of truth as a source of 
knowledge, agrees with Plato, and enters the spacious domains 
of his philosophy, which is, indeed, no narrow system, but 
a Socratic art emancipated from the trammels of sophistry, 
and open to every species of honest and logical extension. 
Those who prefer the other system, that of Beason and Ex- 
perience, will find it difficult, if not absolutely impossible, to 
evade the conclusions of Aristotle, or to surpass them. 
On his own ground, and in his own manner, he is great and 
unrivalled. Of genius such as his, embracing all the varied 
experience of an age, and controlling its scientific destinies, 
the history of the world affords but few more examples : he 
was, incontestably, the greatest master of reasoning in all 
time. 

The later philosophy of the Greeks was composed of 
these two ingredient elements ; excellent in point of art, 
comprehensive for science, but not at all satisfactory for 
the investigation of truth. Plato's spirit was in the ascend- 
ant, and prevailed more and more, but recourse was had to 
Aristotle to supply deficiencies in the external scientific 
form, and various oriental views and traditions contributed 
to complete his speculations. Such was the position of affairs 
in the age when the new Platonists vainly contended against 
the Christian doctrine. 

Notwithstanding that intellectual culture was more es- 



88 MOSAIC KECORDS. 

pecially directed to outward life, and to the beautiful in art, 
despite the consciousness of their pre-eminence, and no 
small share of national vanity, the deepest thinkers among 
this intellectual people had a deep reverence for the pro- 
fundity and sublimity of oriental wisdom, both in early and 
later times. Their glance was peculiarly turned to Egypt, 
as the primitive source of their own mythology and 
traditions : India was viewed by them as the more re- 
mote background of speculative thought. The creed of 
the Hebrews and that of the Persians were equally foreign 
to the genius of the Greeks. To the Egyptians, Phoeni- 
cians, and the inhabitants of Asia Minor, they were united 
by the bond of a common religion : which, notwithstanding 
many differences in detail, harmonized generally in sub- 
stance and fundamental structure. We know that the 
religion of other races of antiquity was essentially dis- 
tinct from that of the Hebrews, and, partially, from that of 
the Persians. Subsequent to the Greek version of the Mo- 
saic records in the reign of the great Philadelphus,* proba- 
bly many, before Longinus, felt and admired their sublimity, 
and were inclined, with those of later times, to interpret 
Moses after Platonic fashion, or even to deduce Plato from 
Moses, which many have in various ages attempted to do. 
On the whole, the faith and manners of the Hebrews, as 
also afterwards the doctrines of Christianity, remained a 
strange phenomenon in the eyes of the Greeks and Romans, 
which they could not clearly comprehend, and respecting 
the particulars of which, on a nearer acquaintance, they 
formed the most singular opinions. This is not to be won- 
dered at, since the very simplest view respectively taken by 
the one or the other, of man and of the beginning of his 
being, as also the origin of knowledge and mental culture, 
sensibly differed. According to Greek and Roman theories, 
the first of mankind had everywhere sprung out of the earth 
as aboriginals ;f just as the fervid heat of the sun often 

* The second of the fourteen Ptolemies, -who reigned in Egypt from 
323 — 30, B.C. He received this name on account of having- married his 
own sister, Arsinoe. Theocritus mentions him, Idyll. 17. — Transl. note. 

f The ancient Athenians wore in their hair golden grasshoppers 
{rkmyto) to shew that they were Aurd%0ovt£, sprung- from the same 
earth. — Transl. note 



CEADLE OP HUMAN CIVILIZATION. 89 

creates or at least arouses stagnant life in moist and slimy 
localities, since nature, whose inner agency is in a state of 
continual ferment and activity, seizes every opportunity of 
hatching matter that has life and motion, though what is 
produced be sometimes of imperfect development. This 
view took too prominent cognizance of one element in man, 
the earth ; his other and higher element, the Diviue spark 
resident within his spirit, was regarded as the reward of 
ingenious theft from heaven.* The Mosaic doctrine, on the 
other hand, sets forth that man did not spring up everywhere 
and fortuitously, but was placed in a given locality by a 
superior intelligence : and that his God-like spirit was not 
the result of audacious theft, but gracious!}'" given to him 
by the hand of Divine Love. In reference to the primi- 
tive history of mankind and of human intellect, the follow- 
ing inference may be drawn from this doctrine, in unison 
with all other traditions. The cradle of human civilization 
may be fixed in Central Asia, that lovely garden of the 
earth, excelling in every kind of natural advantage, and 
watered in all directions by noble streams. Some mighty 
catastrophe, universal in its operation, entirely separated 
mankind of the present time from an older and pre-existing 
race. The nations that again rallied into civilization, sub- 
sequent to the catastrophe, consist of three primaeval families, 
materially differing from each other in genius and character, 
and descended from three ancestors, Shem, Japheth, and 
Ham. One of these, most extensively scattered over Central 
Asia, from the remotest times more enlightened than the 
rest ; then, a second, more especially stocking the north 
with rude but uncorrupted, and less morally degenerate 
children of nature, and who, on that very account, after- 
wards derived the greater advantages from the more early 
refinement of civilized nations ; and the third, a people early 
shariug a high degree of civilization, but, gradually, losing 
all traces of the same, through extreme moral corruption, 
and its concomitant degeneracy. This view is so generally 
established by the records and monuments of antiquity, and 

* Allusion is here doubtless made to Prometheus, whose ingenuity and 
cruel punishment are celebrated in some of the grandest effusioLS of 
ancient minstrelsy. — Transl. note. 



90 REVELATION. 

by progressive enquiry of every kind, that we may safely 
consider it as a recognized and authenticated basis of ail 
historical truth. Both portions of our Revelation — Mosaic 
tradition, as well as the promulgation of Christianity — are, 
in different ways, the central point in the history of the 
human mind. Christianity gave the civilized Roman world 
a new faith, new customs and laws, a rule of life altogether 
new, and, hence, on account of their intimate connection 
with modes of thought and manners, there sprang up a 
new system of art and science, entirely distinct in charac- 
ter and peculiar in operation. However, it is to Mosaic 
tradition that we must turn if we would examine the 
other portions of Eastern culture from a right point of 
view. Not that this development was not of high antiquity 
even among other peoples, as for instance, the Egyptian 
monuments alone, if no other proofs were extant, suffi- 
ciently attest such high antiquity ; at that same gigantic 
architecture, before whose ruins the modern traveller 
still stands awe-stricken, Herodotus gazed twenty-two 
centuries ago, and ascribed them then to a remote anti- 
quity. "We know that hieroglyphics existed before the 
time of Moses, and he himself says he was versed in all the 
wisdom of the Egyptians. But the arts and sciences, 
those consecrated vessels, as it were, of Divine truth, and 
intended only to serve her purposes, were justly wrested 
from Egyptian hands, that so shamefully misapplied and 
abused them. Some modern writers have laboured hard to 
refute this pre-eminent privilege, — peculiar to the Mosaic 
records, before all other Asiatic traditions — of containing a 
purer and more pellucid stream of truth. Some of these 
have attempted to deduce all wisdom from Egypt, an idea 
probably borrowed from ancient critics : others have zeal- 
ously extolled Chinese polity and manners, with ardent 
praises of the moral philosophy of Confucius, Whilst those 
have not been wanting who would people the North with 
an Atlantic primeval race : or, penetrated with the profound 
wisdom and exquisite beauty of the Indian mind., a fourth 
class of admirers have accepted the notoriously fabulous 
chronology of the Bramins, thereby setting all sound princi- 
ples of criticism at defiance : in short, every kind of im- 
probability and fiction, however gross, has been at least 



THE PERSIAN CREED. 91 

ostensibly received and maintained in preference to accept- 
ing the simple truth. 

Of the several nations participating in Oriental culture, 
and whose remote origin is clearly traced by means of 
Egyptian, Persian, and Indian memorials, the Persians 
were most akin to the Hebrews in faith and in traditions : 
for the same reason, they differed all the more from Grecian 
standards. It was under the mild and friendly sceptre of 
Persian monarchy that the scattered Hebrews were again 
collected and united, and their temple rebuilt. To the creed 
of the Egyptians, the Persians were quite as inimical as the 
Hebrews, hence Persian rule was the more stringent in 
Egypt, seeing that the conquerors were desirous of rooting 
out the native religion, from a conviction of its baneful super- 
stition and gross idolatry. Long before the Greek Gelon,* 
on the occasion of his making a treaty with the Carthagi- 
nians, with a humanity characteristic of his nation, insisted on 
their discontinuing human sacrifices, the Persian emperor 
Darius had forbidden this very practice, doubtless on the 
ground of his purer and more spiritual religion. The Persians 
recognized and adored the same God of light and truth 
with the Hebrews, though there was a considerable admix- 
ture of mythological fiction and substantial error in their 
recognition of the truth. Holy Scripture calls Cyrus 
anointed of the Lord, language which no gratitude would 
ever have applied to an Egyptian Pharaoh. The whole 
Persian mode of life, and the government of their empire, 
were based on this sublime faith. As a sun of right- 
eousness, the monarch was intended to be a visible image 
of the supreme God and of eternal light ; whilst seven of the 
principal nobles answered to the Amshaspands,f or the 
seven invisible powers swaying the various agencies of 
nature in diverse regions, in right of their spiritual sove- 
reignty. To these views the Greeks were utter strangers. 
The same Syrian potentate, who bitterly persecuted the 

* Tyrant of Syracuse, 480 B.C. He was as good a sovereign as he was 
a brave soldier. His victory over the Carthaginians, on tne same day 
that the Greeks and Persians fought off Salamis, was eminently decisive. 
The Carthaginian power was utterly prostrated. — Transl. note. 

f The seven superior spirits of good are so called by the Parsees, the 
number, probably, corresponding to that of the planets. Of these Ormuzd. 
is the head. — Transl. note. 



92 ITS ESSENTIAL ERROB. 

Hebrews on account of their faith, and would have compelled 
them to adopt the religion of the Greeks, was likewise 
desirous of annihilating the Persian creed. Alexander, too, 
had endeavoured to extirpate the Magi, not so much from 
caprice or wanton oppression, as because the existence of 
their order presented formidable obstacles to the accomplish- 
ment of his leading wish. He aimed at a fusion of the 
Persian and Greek nations, and to effect this object no 
middle path was practicable ; the Greeks must ei-ther adopt 
fire-worship, abandoning their temples, so many of which 
the Persians, under Xerxes, had razed, since they regarded 
them as subservient to the purposes of superstitious idolatry'; 
or else the doctrines of the Zendavesta,* must be supplanted 
by the introduction of Greek or Egyptian forms of religious 
service into Persia. 

The essential error of the Persian creed consisted in this, 
that, whilst recognizing the power which contends against 
light and goodness, they did not see that the agency of this 
power, though it may seem to have extensive influence over 
man and nature, is as nothing when contrasted with that of 
God: in a word, they accepted two fundamental principles, 
a good and an evil deity. 

Several .commentators of recent times, not being able to 
deny the similarity existing between the Persian faith and 
that of the Hebrews, have endeavoured to explain the same 
by suggesting that the Hebrews derived much, if not all, of 
their knowledge from the Persians, during their exile and 
forcible detention in that great empire. So gratuitous 
an assumption cannot fail to strike the mere historical stu- 
dent, since the connection between the Persians and Hebrews 
which is thus held to be of comparatively recent standing, 
can be proved to have dated far back into remote time, both 
by the joint testimony of both these nations and by 
the very nature of the case ; in fact, deeper investigation 
gives a very different result from this superficial hypothesis. 
Though, in detail, it may be sufficiently difficult to reconcile 
with critical accuracy the Persian traditions of Kaiomer, 
Hoschenk, and Dschemschid, with the patriarchal line of 
ancestors mentioned in Genesis, to whom is attributed some 

* A common name for all sacred writing's of the ancient Persians t 
most of them were composed by Zoroaster. — Transl. note. 



NEGATIVE CHARACTER OE HEBREW WRITINGS. 93 

especial degree of enlightenment — Adam and Seth, or Enoch, 
Noah and Shem. On the whole, however, holy tradition in 
both cases rests on one and the same common basis, being 
deduced from a Revelation of sacred ancestry, as the source 
of Divine enlightenment. The defective hypothesis alluded 
to, gives rise to a completely erroneous point of view. 
The pre-eminence of the Hebrews, before all other Asiatic 
races, entirely consists in their having handed down to pos- 
terity the truths entrusted to them with the strictest fide- 
lity in blind obedience and faith, a boon the value of which 
was often not apprehended by themselves ; while among all 
other nations these truths were either not recognized, or 
lost, or disfigured by the most extravagant fictions and fear- 
ful errors. This negative character, so to speak, is borne 
by all the sacred writings of the Hebrews, and especially, 
the Mosaic records. Whatsoever was virtually to be 
law, is set forth in terms the most explicit. In the be- 
ginning of the record, that w r hich concerns man internally is 
so intelligible that the most ignorant, nay savages, or even 
childhood that has begun to be observant of passing occur- 
rences, may easily apprehend its import. General his- 
tory also, a common origin, and the earliest fortunes of 
the human race, are all expounded as far as is essential to 
belief. But so much as could serve only to gratify the long- 
ings of speculative curiosity, Moses has to a great extent 
shrouded in mystery. The concise information he has con- 
veyed, with almost hieroglyphic brevity, respecting the first 
ten progenitors in early history, has been amplified by the 
Persians, Indians, and Chinese into whole volumes of my- 
thology, and legends half poetic, half metaphysical. 

The qualities of surpassing fancy and inventive metaphy- 
sics, of a profound acquaintance with nature and her laws, 
must be assigned to the Persians rather than the Hebrews. 
In astronomy, architecture, and all such arts as formed the 
especial study of other Eastern nations, the Hebrews were 
likewise inferior. At those questions only, which, if not 
pointedly answered, might for the future serve to shake 
confidence in God, the narrative of the sufferings of Job 
offers an explanation, — a narrative that, if judged only on its 
own merits and by the canons of profane criticism, must ever 
rank as one of the most sublime and characteristic efforts of 
antiquity. No longer thickly veiled in Mosaic secresy, but 



94 HEBREW FEELINGS ANTICIPATORY OF THE EUTURE. 

serene and clear as noon-day the knowledge of God is mani- 
fested in the songs of David, the allegories of Solomon, 
and the prophecies of Isaiah. Here are exhibited a blaze 
of splendour and a loftiness of view which, considered in 
reference to mere poetic composition, excite our admiration, 
distance all competition, and confound every attempt to de- 
preciate them ; they are a fiery fountain of divine inspira- 
tion, by which the greatest poets down to our own day have 
been stimulated to their boldest flights. But, even this 
clearness is still prophetical, and it is half concealed, and its 
full development is to be looked for in the future. Careful 
discrimination is necessary: it is not the sensuous transpa- 
rency of artistic thought, as in the highly wrought, intellec- 
tual efforts of the Greeks ; it is not the masculine energy, 
and decided vigour of the Romans, but a prophetic depth to- 
tally different from both of these, and intelligible only in 
its peculiar sense, that pervades the sacred writings of the 
Hebrews. Their whole feelings and existence seemed to be 
not so much a thing of the present as of the past, and still 
more of the future. The past was no poetic reminiscence, 
as it is among other nations, but a solemn relic of their Di- 
vine institutions, and of the eternal covenant. Thoughts of 
the Eternal were not, with them, distinguished from the 
circumstances of temporal life, as was the case in the isolated 
philosophy of solitary Grecian sages, but interwoven in the 
tissue of life generally, in the web of a wondrous past of the 
chosen people, and the still more glorious promises of a 
mysterious future. Historically considered, the palmy 
period of the Hebrews was of no long duration ; the Mosaic 
legislation and plan of life scarcely ever reached full matu- 
rity, for never did the people fulfil the intentions of their 
Divine lawgiver. Long tossed about in the wilderness, and 
subjected to the ever-changing shifts of a chastened nation, 
the sanctuary attained the dignity of a splendid temple for 
a brief period only, in the reign of Solomon. It w T as 
speedily reduced to nothing, as a punishment for national 
crime, and when re-erected, with the sanction and favour of 
Persian monarchy, the treasures and memorials of the past 
were, indeed, once more collected and preserved : but the 
flourishing period of the Hebrew mind was well nigh past. 
Like the Komans, the later Jews were unable to contend 
against the onward progress of Grecian thought, civilization, 



EBBOBEOUa BE PEESESTAT JON'S. 95 

and literature. Yet, ever did the existence of this peculiar 
people, in a prophetic manner, more especially, if not exclu- 
sively, point to futurity. 

If after these preliminary remarks we desire to compre- 
hend and characterize the essence of Hebrew thought or 
the sacred writings of the Old Testament, more completely, 
as a whole, as far as is practicable, within the intellectual 
horizon of mental development in art and science, over which 
these sacred records have exerted so great an influence, it 
will be necessary in the first place, to remove all erroneous 
representations. We are considering the Old Testament 
not merely as the abstract of Hebrew intellect, but as the 
first part of God's written TV ord, and are including this holy 
book in the history of Literature. And how, indeed, could 
a suitable explanation and history of the Word, with its 
manifold development, possibly exclude all cognizance of 
the Divine vYord ? But the peculiar worship and theology 
of the Hebrews, as well as the character and spirit of the 
biblical writings, will be most clearly explained by their op- 
posites. It was no heathen, sidereal, nature- worship, but 
a strictly moral service, with heroic belief in Providence. 
There were no mysteries, no arrogant, secret, esoteric doc- 
trines intended for the educated or powerful few: but a 
true national church, a Theocracy animating and influencing 
the whole of life. Neither were the subtle dogmas of an 
ingenious philosophy allowed to prevail, enunciating, per- 
haps, very sublime truths respecting God and Divine things, 
yet without sufficient organic force to take a proper and 
permanent hold of the world : but there was to be a firm, 
steady bond of union, a living intercourse with God, in 
childlike fear and unchangeable love. 

Thus, it will be seen, then, that the sacred writings of the 
Hebrews form a more complete whole than the mental 
productions of any other nation — constituting, in reality, a 
Divine book : in connected correspondence, and an extension 
of one and the same subject continued for upwards of a thou- 
sand years. A unique book, for it treats but of one subject, 
man, and the people of God. A book suitable for all classes 
of readers, inasmuch as its contents are prefigurative for all 
coming ages, and typical for entire humanity. Its subject, 
though radically one, may, nevertheless, be considered in 
twofold reference. It may be said, also, to have a twofold 



96 PKINCIPAL ELEMENTS IN THE OLD TESTAMENT. 

centre, some of the leading parts bearing directly on the 
Word of life and the Divine deliverance and redemption to 
be effected by it ; others, on the Church or the union and 
league of the Elect, to whom the "Word of life and of Divine 
love was entrusted, for use, preservation, and dissemination. 
These two subjects can, by no means, be wholly severed, 
or separately promulgated : but it is possible for the one 
Idea to predominate here, the other there, as will be seen 
when we proceed to details. There are four principal di- 
visions (or parts) of the Old Testament, referring to one 
common centre— the church of the old Covenant, or the 
elect people of Grod. They are Grenesis : Thora, or the 
Mosaic law: the historical books: the Prophets. Prom 
these we learn, first, the original establishment of the primi- 
tive Church, rising out of the ruins of the old World and 
the earliest patriarchal times : then, the institution, legisla- 
tion, and organic arrangement of the same. The historical 
books inform us of the fortunes, crimes, chastenings, and 
wonderful guidance of the chosen people : whilst the prophets 
exhibit, after its decline, the regeneration, spiritual glory, 
and future perfection of the primitive Church. The won- 
derful book of Genesis, even though compiled and written 
by Moses, at a later period, essentially breathes the spirit of 
the antique in every syllable of its contents. It is, in truth, 
the Grospel of the old Covenant : revealing man's astound- 
ing secret, and possessing the key to all Revelation, it is of 
especial importance in unlocking the hieroglyphs of a pri- 
meval world which would otherwise be unintelligible. 

Here we have a plain disclosure of the origin of evil on earth: 
a subject with which other ancient doctrines, poetical cosmo- 
gonies, and heathen Yedas* have been inextricably perplexed, 
Instead of the false Mayaf of the Indians, we observe the 
true Eve, the mother of all living, human beings : we see how 
the serpent beguiled man to take of the fruit of spurious 
knowledge, and how the tree of earthly creation was cor- 
rupted and poisoned at the fall of the first man. The origin 
of all demoniac aberrations is manifested in Cain and his 
curse-marked race, which, spreading to the South and East, 

* This term, in Indian religion, signifies the whole system of traditions, 
laws, &c. issuing from Bratnah. — Transl. note. 

+ One of the superior Indian deities : the goddess of love, and, curiously 
enough, the mother of Kama who answers to Cupid. — Transl. note. 



THE BOOK OF GENESIS. 97 

in the land of Ham, planted magic rites and the worship of 
evil spirits among a considerable portion of mankind. 
Babel furnishes us with the foundation of all political de- 
molition, and of that perpetual dispersion of people and 
states that has continued for thousands of years, in ebb and 
flow, towards the West and North, from one quarter of the 
globe to another. Moreover, this Genesis of man demon- 
strates how, notwithstanding a succession of degeneracy and 
false worship, Divine truth is maintained in an unbroken 
series of holy traditions, from its first beginning in Adam, 
the father of the earth, through Seth and Enos, inspired 
Enoch — whom other nations, too, regard as the earliest sage 
— righteous Noah, presenting a sacrifice on behalf of all na- 
ture, elect Shem, — revered as a king and ancestor by the 
noblest races — down to Abraham, with whom commences a 
new epoch of special belief in Providence, with implicit 
surrender of the human will to the divine. This same 
Genesis shews us that the true religion of antiquity was no 
sidereal adoration of nature, but a pure recognition of 
Jehovah, a genuine, though still incomplete Christianity : not 
a religion of the law, w T hich it came to be afterwards, but a 
religion of nature. But, it was not nature herself, and her 
inexhaustible productive powers that formed the object of 
adoration, but God or Christ in nature. Hence, we must 
carefully discriminate between the pure religion of these 
holy progenitors of the human family, — and the sidereal, 
nature-w T orship of later, degenerate paganism. It was always 
Jehovah, Christ, or the wonder-working Word of nature, that 
those Patriarchs held intercourse with, by means of prayer 
like Enos, by Divine inspiration and pious resignation like 
Enoch and Noah. Melchisedek is named as the last of this 
series of Patriarchs, and he marks the transition-point from 
the Word of nature to the Word of the law which begins 
with Abraham, to whom," as the first servant of faith the 
Word of nature was delivered over by its last high-priest. 
Uninterrupted connexion being thus maintained with the 
patriarchal world, Abraham, or rather the Mosaic law, in- 
augurates the second, nationally judaic element of the sacred 
volume : the historical w-ri tings constituting the third ele- 
ment among those books that refer to the Divine institution, 
progressive development, and wonderful guidance of the 



98 THE HEBREW SCRIPTURES. 

ancient Church and the elect people. Of the prophets, who, 
in varied streams of prophecy, conclude the list, the four 
major beam forth their welcoming rays to the coming glory, 
like the Cherubim bending over the still closed Ark of the 
coming glory, according to the quaternary number conse- 
crated to the Revelation of Divine excellence and character- 
ized by the four mysterious animal-symbols. The twelve 
minor prophets are so many stars of lesser magnitude, sur- 
rounding with a glory the four principal luminaries of Divine 
prophecy. On the whole, the Old Testament is not so strictly 
exclusive in its structure as a system of temporal art or mun- 
dane science is wont to be, but, rather, resembles a living, 
moss-grown tree, girt with vigorous shoots. Thus, if, for 
instance, the most notable historical books describe to us the 
errors, chastenings, and saving guidance of the chosen 
people, in general terms, those particular tales and Hebrew 
legends — which in ordinary, literal, and historical point of 
view, would only constitute an incidental episode of the 
whole — such as Ruth, Judith, Esther, Tobias, shew us the 
same Providential care exercised for the benefit of individuals. 
These biographies may be regarded in the light of historical 
parables of the Old Testament : they serve as so many com- 
mentaries on the larger history, and though, when superficially 
viewed, of little historical importance, they contain a sym- 
bolical meaning, both rich and valuable : no high, spiritual 
interpretation of the Bible would desire to dispense with 
them completely. If the sacred writings be compared to a 
living tree, the historical books are the deep-rooted trunk : 
the Mosaic Revelation, especially Genesis, its splendid top, 
towering to the clouds : whilst the Prophets are the four- 
branched base, striking root in a chosen soil, out of which 
Christianity is to shoot forth in full verdure. In addition 
to those portions of the Old Testament, that have been 
named, especially bearing on the Church of the old Cove- 
nant or of God's chosen people as a general centre, there is- 
yet another series of writings in the sacred compilation 
which I would style books of aspiration. And for this 
reason, that they have reference only to the Word of 
life and of deliverance, in faith and love, in aspiration and 
promise, without direct allusion to the church and his- 
tory of the chosen people, at least, in total independence 



THE BOOK OF JOB, THE PSALMS, ETC. 99 

of all positive law, and individualities in its organic formation. 
To these aspirations the book of Job, preeminently, belongs : 
which, although having not the slightest contact with the Mo- 
saic institution, presents us with an important and almost 
necessary supplement to Mosaic Revelation, inasmuch as it 
invokes the spirit of belief and of trust in God, during 
a religious period when the promises of futurity did not 
beam forth with so bright a splendour. It is only when 
considered in this connection, that the book of Job appears 
in its right place, and in its full importance. The Psalms 
are the second, and the writings of Solomon the third, 
members of this series : and thus, there is a threefold divi- 
sion, as in the inner Christian life there is a triple chord 
of faith, hope, and love. In the same manner that Job 
is mainly concerned in manifesting patient and enduring 
faith, and the writings of Solomon declare unto us the 
secret of Divine Love, and the words of Wisdom which pro- 
ceeds from that Love, and is in itself Love — so the Psalms 
are songs of the Divine desire, and amidst the struggles of 
longing hope. But as Job is more intimately connected 
with the older Mosaic time, so the two latter, more espe- 
cially the Psalms, are, in their peculiar imagery and thought, 
not unfrequently typical of the prophets. Again, these three 
classes, together with the four principal prophets, form one 
complete, closely-united mass, girding, tendril-like, the trunk 
of the institution, history, and prophecy of the chosen people, 
with the triple power of the Divine spirit. Christian per- 
fection and blessedness are sublimely veiled in these three 
holy books, as in a cloud : Job shews us faith in the heroic 
endurance of suffering, Solomon declares to us Love in 
symbolic mystery, whilst the Psalms breathe forth hope 
in the struggle of earthly aspiration. In these latter, Christ, 
the eternal Word of life and of reconciliation, everywhere 
clearly expresses himself, and therefore the Psalms have ever 
been and will continue to be for all Christian time, the prin- 
cipal chant in all Church-melody : whilst as a divine Litany 
they constitute the rich fountain of Christian devotion. 
They delineate the meeting of the Father and the Son, the 
anxious longing of the Son to be once more with his Father 
after painful separation, and the merciful condescension of 



100 THE HEBREW SCEIPTURES. 

the Father, as they seek out each other in the surges of crea- 
tion, and approach each other on the central ground of 
love. Viewed from this point, the idea of Divine inspira- 
tion is realized, that is to say, the vital essence of inspira- 
tion : whilst the closed cycle of the sacred writings, com- 
monly called the Canon, which is presumed to contain all 
that is substantially requisite for church doctrine and govern- 
ment, is, by rightful authority, positively determined and 
dogmatically fixed. If the Spirit of Grod be such as to pro- 
ceed at once from the Father and the Son, its presence is 
most conspicuous when both, the hidden bosom of the Fa- 
ther, in creative longing and almighty depths of affection — 
and the mysterious Word of the everlasting Son, meet and 
kindle into one glowing flame of illumination. The united 
and complete power of Divine life and agency is the stamp 
unmistakably impressed on the whole framework of the 
Scriptures in their whole spirit and structure, though in 
some parts the omnipotence of the Father, in others the 
glory of the Son, is more prominently set forth. If we are 
asked what gives the Bible, in its poetical portions, that 
more than Pindaric enthusiasm, and in its pure contempla- 
tion of the Grodhead, that more than Platonic sublimity, we 
should feel disposed to answer, it is this, the Spirit proceed- 
ing from the Father and the Son ! But if we would deter- 
mine more exactly the character and the spirit of the Old 
Testament, according to those four holy symbolic animals, 
who mark and signify four sides or different spheres in any 
revelation of the Divine Being, we may venture to say that 
the books of the Old Testament bear chiefly the impress of 
the Lion, as the element of the ardent power of will in the 
divine fire. But as this good and pious courage of the lion 
is only directed outwards, but in the interior of the heart 
the loving lamb-like sentiments must dwell, and these two 
images of antiquity are here thus bound and connected with 
one another ; thus in the inmost heart and soul of this divine 
book the Christian form of the lamb rises from the covering 
of this lion-like power, as the symbol and gospel of the eter- 
nal sacrifice and of divine love. 

Having thus attempted to sketch the arrangement and 
organic composition of the Old Testament in its unity, as 



THE F0KMS OF BIBLICAL EEPRESENTATION". 101 

also to convey an idea of the construction of the whole in 
its sevenfold division, the seven principal members and their 
adjuncts, it only remains to characterize the several peculi- 
arities of expression and outward form of the Biblical repre- 
sentation. Of these forms peculiar to Holy Writ there are 
four principal ones: — Aphorism; Parallelism, chiefly in the 
poetical parts ; Vision, in the prophetic books and passages ; 
and Parable, or Allegory, which last is not confined to mere 
isolated sections, but pervades the whole in its figurative 
mode of thought. The first of these, Aphorism, being the 
simplest expression of vigorous living thought, and conse- 
quently often figurative, is especially suited to the primitive 
habits and tastes of all nations, and, accordingly, common to 
all races and people in their earliest epochs. When treating 
of the Greeks, it will be remembered, we took occasion to 
allude to aphorism, as the form which their philosophy ori- 
ginally adopted, as also to the distichs of the Gnomic bards. 
With still greater prominence this form appears in the Indian 
metrical aphorism, or Schloka, as it is technically termed, 
the distich peculiar to Sanscrit literature : whilst, generally 
speaking, the loftiest poesy, and even many scientific works 
of olden times, were composed entirely in this form, on which 
all other metrical forms mny be said to have been grounded. 
Indian aphorism bears a wonderful resemblance to the He- 
brew ; but the former, with its four feet of eight syllables 
each, has a much stricter symmetry than the latter ; the 
Hebrew irregularity of structure and of intellectual flight 
corresponding most harmoniously, so that in the most preg- 
nrmt passages each sentence may be called a verbal hiero- 
glyph. This form is, of all others, best adapted to the spirit 
of a higher revelation : being the natural expression of the 
Eternal to man ; it is likewise the Divine fiat, where crea- 
tive action follows upon the word, giving it a peculiar stamp, 
as especially in Genesis. And having passed from the ex- 
pression of Divine will, as law, and from the language of 
prophecy over to historical narrative, as well as every other 
species of expression, it becomes of universal application. 
But, in the poetry of the Hebrews, besides this aphoristic 
Biblical form, there is another peculiar law of living, breath- 
ing thought and rhythmical notion, not indeed of words and 
syllables, but of images and feelings undulating in free sym- 



102 HEBEEW POETRY. 

metry like tlie waves of the sea. This pouring forth of the 
jbouI seeking her Grod is well embodied in the parallelism of 
Hebrew song, visible, not merely in individual verses of the 
Psalms, but throughout the structure of the whole, as it is 
dismembered into strophes and antistrophes. A strict metre 
whether of syllables, musical time, or rhyme would not be 
so suitable to the dignified and sublime elevation of the sacred 
writings as that simple and free original form of poetic 
movement, which consists only in a repetition and corres- 
pondence of images and a rhythm of the thought. Upon 
the whole, it will scarcely be expected that all ordinary 
artistic laws are to regulate Holy Writ, but only such as in 
their genius might hold good in a purely spiritual order of 
things. It would be difficult to conceive there the existence of 
dramatic representation, of real epos, of rhetorical harangues, 
or of scientific treatises. But in the invisible world of god- 
like sentiment and of spiritual nature, inner creative Power 
and Will may be supposed to communicate in expression, 
verbal or otherwise ; and even incorporeal spirits may sylla- 
bic their adoration in song that is not terrestrial. It is by a 
standard such as this that Biblical forms are to be judged, 
especially in the department that in human language is 
called philosophy or poetry. With reference to poetry ge- 
nerally, this will explain how it is that, whilst the epic form, 
historically considered, is the primitive and original source 
of all other kinds — and the dramatic form is, in point of art, 
the climax, the perfection of the whole, yet, even heathen 
nations selected the lyrical, as the most proper form for em- 
bodying their hymns. Again, it should be borne in mind, 
that mere beauty of form is nowhere, throughout the Bible 
and writings of the old Covenant, of preponderating im- 
• portance. The words are words of life, simply and clearly 
expressed, with a deep profundity of meaning, mysteries in 
all their fulness are conveyed in the simplicity of unadorned 
history, in the mere gushing forth of the heart without any 
artificial embellishments. 

In Hebrew Parallelism, the second peculiar form of Bib- 
lical representation, we see the sympathizing soul, lost in 
enthusiasm, and carried away in the stream of eternal love. 
Whilst in Vision, the third peculiarity of form, we behold 
the spirit transported by God into a higher region of pure 



BIBLICAL ALLEGOKY. 103 

intuition, where, having ceased self-guidance, it only beholds 
and describes things not of this world. The Psalms are a 
free lifting up of the soul to Grod ; in Vision, on the con- 
trary, the mind is in a more passive, suffering condition, 
yielding entirely to Divine influences. The very nature of 
the Scriptures, as the vehicle of Divine revelation, is such 
that a considerable portion of their contents is necessarily 
couched in visions ; and other parts, likewise, though not 
strictly prophetic, are yet tinged with the same character. 
Since, however, the inner, concealed, Divine essence cannot 
make itself known externally but by means of revelation, 
those contemplations of the invisible world are veiled in 
imagery entirely their own, and can only be conveyed by 
symbols. This brings us to the fourth Biblical form of ex- 
pression, namely, Allegory. Just as the religion of the old 
Covenant is, throughout, typical of Christianity, so also, 
this typical account of the adventures that befel the chosen 
people, where history itself becomes prophetic, and has alle- 
goric reference, is peculiar to the Old Testament ; whilst the 
more childlike form of parable is more prevalent in the 
New Testament. All these images, which are not merely 
images but truths, constitute the elements of that hiero- 
glyphic language that stamps Holy "Writ with its own pecu- 
liar impress, and that vivid clearness of imagination that 
characterizes revelation in its symbolical garb. 

Among the different forms of symbolical expression which 
are principally used in the monuments of antiquity, and 
especially in the Bible, we may distinguish four according 
to the elementary powers of human consciousness and 
existence. Allegory, properly so called, animates and per- 
sonifies the abstract ideas of Reason according to its own 
design and good pleasure, On the other hand, in the sym- 
bolical events of typical history there is a real reflection and 
fore-tokening in which Nature repeats itself in its produc* 
tions, according to the will of the Creator, from age to age, 
and is reflected by its own imagination. In Hieroglyphics, 
it is the Eternal himself and his mysteries which are ren- 
dered intelligible by a sensible figure ; while the Parable, 
descending from this elevation, acts morally on the heart, 
and insinuates itself into the life with unostentatious power. 

On this symbolic quality and general structure of Holy 



104 INTERPRETATION OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

"Writ is founded that allegorical meaning and system of 
interpretation, as essentially necessary and appropriate 
which in ancient times was universally employed, and was 
sanctioned by the Fathers of the Church. If then we add 
to the correct idea of the peculiar spirit in the connection 
of the Father with the Son, or of the inspiration of the 
Scriptures, and to the four peculiar biblical forms already 
pointed out, add the idea of a deep and complete interpre- 
tation according to the three-fold meaning, — the spirit and 
form of the Scriptures will be presented as clearly to us, as our 
present object requires. The first interpretation is, according 
to the literal sense which depends on the purely historical, the 
moral and simple dogmatic contents, and the correct gram- 
matical understanding of it. The second kind of interpreta- 
tion is the allegorical, which as a spiritual mode of under- 
standing, brings to light, along with the literal and histo- 
rical meaning, the symbolical and the typical signification. 
But the third and highest interpretation is founded on the 
hidden mystical sense which, either with or without imagery, 
rests on the mystery of the soul and its union with God ; 
so that the signification depends on the internal psycholo- 
gical understanding of this mystery. When this knowledge 
" according to the soul" attains to perfect clearness, we 
may say that it is the Eternal word of Love itself which 
comprehends and understands itself in its own peculiar 
light. "With this 'idea of the highest clearness in the mys- 
terious intelligence of the soul united to God, we may con- 
clude most suitably our remarks on the Sacred Volume. 

Let us now briefly glance at the Hebrew language, the ves- 
sel and instrument selected to receive the Divine gift of Ee- 
velation. In order to mark its precise character and relative 
position among other languages of antiquity, it is desirable 
critically to investigate the internal elements of speech, since 
it is upon the predominance of one or other element that the 
peculiar spirit and tone of a language mainly depend. 
Accustomed as we are to divide letters into two classes — 
vowels and consonants — we altogether lose sight of a third, 
highly important though less striking, element. Aspira- 
tion, which both introduces a new power and modifies 
the character of existing sounds, produces vocal combina- 
tons differing, materiallv, from vowels as well as consonants. 



THE HEBREW LANGUAGE. . 105 

Consonants susceptible of a two-fold pronunciation, a hard 
and a soft, belong to this species of aspirables ; such as d 
and£; Sandjo; fandnv; thus approximating closely to 
the musical harmony of vowels ; as also those vowels that 
are eligible to serve as consonants when occasion offers, 
namely i and u, which may become j and v. Actual, pure 
consonants are the organic characteristics of a language, 
they form its body : vowels contain its musical ingre- 
dient, and correspond to the principle of the soul ; whilst 
aspirable letters correspond to the Divine, spiritual ele- 
ment. In some languages, consonants express and cha- 
racterize the prevailing element of genius, as in the Greek, 
Persian, and Germanic idioms. In others, the musical 
harmony of vowels predominates, as in modern Italian, 
of which the full-toned ancient Roman was, of course, the 
basis. The aspirate character especially distinguishes 
Hebrew and its kindred dialects, spiritual afflatus being 
preeminently marked in the inspired tones of prophetic lan- 
guage. Peculiarities, too, of grammatical structure obtain, 
such as the connecting by the article, the conjunction in the 
prefixes and the pronominal suffixes; these are all intimately 
connected with the aspirable principle and character. It is 
sufficiently apparent, then, that the tone and spirit of Hebrew 
prophetic language are a well adapted means to a definite 
end, to give expression to holy revelation and Divine pro- 
phecy. If it be ascertained that in each of the three classic 
idioms of antiquity, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, some one ele- 
ment stands prominently out, it must not be forgotten that 
in the old Indian language these several elements, w T hich were 
afterwards separated, were enclosed in one common germ. 
The Sanskrit combines these various qualities, possessed se- 
parately by other tongues : Grecian copiousness, deep-toned 
Homan force, the Divine afflatus characterizing the Hebrew 
tongue. If we now turn our attention from these very simple 
isolated, and yet essential elements of language, to the princi- 
pal organs which are clearly distinguished by further develop- 
ment in their growth and operation, we snail discover prin- 
cipally four which correspond to the four elementary powers 
of the human consciousness. The roots are the positive 
divine in language, the original source of the natural reve- 
lation deposited and expressed in words, as the understand- 



106 . SACERD WRITINGS OF THE PARSEE6. 

ing of the first Man perceived them at first in the yet 
pure light. The grammatical forms of language and their 
whole artificial structure are the work of Reason : Images 
and tropes on the other hand are the element of the Imagi- 
nation, and in the undulations of rhyme and of metrical 
movement, the ebb and flow of the desires and of the will 
are expressed. Judged by an organic standard of the 
principal elements of language, the Sanskrit excels in gram- 
matical structure, and is, indeed, the most perfectly developed 
of all idioms, not excepting Greek and Latin. In imagery 
and types of every kind no language is so rich as the He- 
brew : it is the prevalent element, and as all contemplation 
of Divine things is figurative, it follows that in this capacity, 
also, Hebrew is especially adapted to the purposes of Reve- 
lation. As regards grammatical roots, it would be difficult 
indeed .to adjudge the preference to any one tongue : it is 
necessary to take all primitive, stock-languages, as Indian, 
Latin, Greek, Persian, Hebrew, and our own Germanic, 
into consideration, in reference to the number of original 
root-syllables, in order to approach, as near as may now be 
practicable, to the great source of the common origin of 
language. In rhythm and metre languages follow their own 
rules and modes, according to their, peculiar character; and 
in a very high spiritual development of languages, this ele- 
ment is almost entirely taken from its original material soil, 
and nothing is left but a gentle resonance as a remembrance 
and echo of the tranquillised soul, as in our own Christian 
tongues. 

We will now turn from a consideration of Hebrew litera- 
ture to that of the oriental nations : but before proceeding 
to an examination of Indian records and memorials, it will 
be convenient to subjoin a few remarks respecting the re- 
ligious books of the Persians, whose oldest doctrines, as we 
saw, were most near akin to the Hebrew, and therefore we 
speak of them in this connection. 

In those of the sacred writings of the Parsees still extant, 
how much soever they may differ from the genuine form of 
the original Zendavesta, we trace a close resemblance, in 
many points, to the Mosaic doctrine. As for instance, in 
particulars regarding the Omnipotence of the Creator, light 
and darkness, the Word of life, guardian Angels, the Spirit 



INDIAN MONUMENTS AND EPICS. 107 

of evil ; though, in this case, they are interwoven with na- 
ture-worship : namely, adoration of the stars, of fire and 
water. In this respect, the Zendavesta constitute a tran- 
sition-medium between Mosaic Christian belief and pure 
paganism. The most intelligible account of this connection 
between the sidereal worship of a primitive world, and a 
strict recognition of the unity of the Godhead, is afforded 
in the Dessatix,* the holy book of the Abades, a sect not 
unlike the Gnostics of old : which record is one of the 
most curious memorials we possess of oriental antiquity. 

The poetical element of the Persian religion has more 
aflSnity with the mythology of the north than that of the 
Greeks. The same nature-worship, namely, of light, fire, 
and the other pure elements, ordained in the liturgy of the 
Zendavesta, appears also, in poetic form, in the Edda:f 
giants, dwarfs, and magic creations, animate the world of 
Persian, as of northern, poetic, legend. 

To this poetic feature of Persian literature we shall have 
further opportunity of referring. The ancient religious doc- 
trine of the Persians is only adverted to here in its connec- 
tion with the sacred traditions of the Hebrews. 



LECTUKE Y. 



Indian monuments and epics. — Ancient modes of 
sepulture. — Indian literatube and intellect. 

The ancient monuments of Indian architecture sufficiently 
attest the high antiquity of Indian mythology. In their 
gigantic proportions and general plan, these monuments 
most resemble the Egyptian, and it is difficult to assign 

* The name of fifteen recently discovered prophetical books of the 
ancient Persians : they were printed in Bombay, and translated into 
English by Erskine. That great critic, Silvestre de Sacy, supposes them 
to date about 9U0. — Trausl. note. 

f Two collections of Icelandic poetry are thus styled. The word itself 
ncans mother, founder, fyc. — Transl. note. 



103 INDIAN EPICS. 

tbem a less remote period of existence. All such memorials, 
whether covered with hieroglyphics like those of Egypt : or 
ruins of the mighty city of Persepolis, with their yet un- 
deciphered inscriptions, or the mythology of the Indians 
hewn out of solid rock : transport us in imagination to 
past ages from which we feel altogether separated. It may 
be said that just as national history has an heroic age and 
the present has been preceded by an epoch marked by the 
vestiges of physical revolution on our globe and by the re- 
mains of extinct races of animals, so also, mental culture and 
poetry have had their wondrous, gigantic past, when all 
ideas, fictions, and fancies that, at a later period, unfolded 
into song, into literature, into philosophy : when all human 
knowledge or error, as astronomy, chronology, cosmogony, 
theology, legislation, was expressed in huge sculpture. Of 
the two principal Indian epics, still extant, the one cele- 
brates B-ama, who is supposed to have conquered the south- 
ern, and more savage part of the Indian peninsula, and the 
island of Ceylon. He is the popular national hero, and is 
represented in the fulness of youthful vigour, beauty, noble- 
ness, and love, yet, for the most part, unhappy, an exile, 
and in perpetual conflict with peril and suffering. An im- 
personification of heroic life, repeated in every beautiful 
legend, with such variations as depend on local influences 
and associations. In the bloom of youth and beauty, on 
the highest step of fame, pow r er and joy, Man is often seized 
with a deep feeling of the fleeting nature of this earth's 
existence which he calls his life. This epic of Rama, as far 
as I have been able to judge, appears to be a work of great 
excellence, occupying a position between Homeric simplicity 
and clearness, and the exuberant fancy of Persian poetry, and 
adorned ' with a profuse variety of maxims drawn from the 
wisdom of the ancients. By the side of warlike deeds is 
delineated the retired life of holy recluses, with their wise 
precepts and devout discourses, most minutely detailed. On 
instituting a comparison of Indian and Greek epics, it is 
found that to heroic legend, cosmogony and poesy are 
superseded, the whole being threaded on Gnomic minstrelsy. 
It is as though Homer and Parmenides, Hesiod and Solon, 
were all united in one work : whilst there are some portions 



INDIAN EPICS. 109 

that, in their especial oriental colouring, remind one forcibly 
of Mosaic sublimity, or the Proverbs of Solomon. 

The other Indian epic, including the whole of mythology 
— the Mahabharat — sings of the battles which the heroes, 
gods, and giants, waged with one another. In similar 
fictions, the minstrels of the past, among all races possess- 
ing any legendary traditions soever, have embodied reminis- 
cences of a nature struggling in the throes of the marvellous 
and grand, and of the tragic doom of some heroic, primitive 
time. At whatever later period these two poems — the 
Eamayan and Mahabharat— may have received embellish- 
ment and finish, it is, at any rate, certain that the poetic sub- 
stance of these works is genuine, and dates from some very 
antique age : since the faithful images they contain are 
carved in rocks and caves, on those memorials of a former 
world. The Mahabharat is full of the Vedanta-doctrines, and 
is hence reputed to have been the production of Vyasa. I 
am not quite certain that the same philosophy is not the 
basis of the Eamayan, which, if ascertained, would material- 
ly affect the position of this noblest of epics in the rank of 
Indian literature : but, according to historical accounts, it 
is ascribed to the poet Valmiki,* who flourished at a con- 
siderably earlier period. 

In reference to the introduction of Indian philosophy into 
Europe in early times, it will be recollected that Pythagoras 
made Greece acquainted with the doctrine of the transmi- 
gration of souls, which originally came from that country. 
To the Greeks, this was, indeed, a novel and surprising 
dogma. In India it had been a popular belief ever since 
India had become known to mankind : it may even be pre- 
sumed that the whole mode of Indian life and manners was 
founded on this creed. Here, then, was its home : which 
was certainly not at all the case in Egypt, from which more 
immediately Pythagoras had brought it. The Egyptian 
treatment of their dead confirms us in this statement. 
There is, undoubtedly, implanted in man a certain anxious 
regard for the lifeless bodies of the departed : so that nothing 

* For further particulars respecting this IncTan poet, the reader is 
referred to " The Ramayan of Valmiki," in the original Sanskrit, with a 
prose translation, and explanatory notes hy W. Carey and J. Marshman, 
printed at the Mission-press, Serampore. — Trans, note. 



110 TREATMENT OF THE DEAD. 

is more repugnant or offensive to our notions and personal 
feelings than a violation of propriety on this head. The 
manner in which they, severally, treat their dead is an impor- 
tant criterion, and should be taken into account when we are 
estimating the social character of nations, being intimately 
connected with their religious views and feelings ; we will, 
therefore, pause for a moment, to consider this point. The 
Greek custom of burning the dead is of very early origin. It 
has great attractions tor the imagination. Together with 
the flame of the pyre, ascends the unquenchable spirit, in 
liberated purity, towards Heaven : its earthly part remains 
as ashes, a precious relic. Perhaps the most repulsive 
method of treatment was that in vogue among the followers 
of Zoroaster, and still practised in Thibet. There, in order 
not to defile the sacred elements, fire and earth, the remains 
of the dead are thrown into receptacles built expressly for 
the purpose, and walled in at the sides but left open at the 
top, and thus are exposed to birds and beasts of prey. The 
mode of interment sanctioned by our own religion, if proper 
care be taken, is certainly the most agreeable to nature. 
The earth receives back her own, and the corruptible body 
is entrusted to her maternal bosom, as a seed-corn of the 
future. It is more congenial to our feelings to know that 
the body of the dead itself reposes in a given spot, than to 
contemplate an empty urn, or to gaze at a funeral pile that 
has reduced and on which the body has been dispersed among 
the general elements. The Egyptian custom of embalming, 
a method to which, though after a ruder fashion, the Ethio- 
pians were wont to resort, and which, most probably, was 
generally practised throughout the interior of Africa, is not 
in complete keeping with the Indian belief in transmigration 
of souls. On the part of races adopting such a practice, it 
would seem to imply an assumption that the apparently in- 
animate mass was very important, and that the mysterious 
magnetic bond linking the spirit and the mummy was not 
altogether dissolved, that, perhaps, it would be again con- 
nected, involving a participation of the corruptible body in 
immortality ! It is as though a presentiment of the resur- 
rection of the body — as Christianity teaches — but in a false 
and too material application, had led the Egyptians to pre- 
serve the corpse with such diligent and engrossing care : 



DOCTRINE OE THE METEMPSYCHOSIS. Ill 

perhaps, too, there may have been a reference to necro- 
mancy ; for, from the remotest ages, magic rites were con- 
nected with pneumatology in the whole interior of Africa. 
Some have been desirous to refer this custom of the Egyp- 
tians to a merely material cause, namely, as a preservative 
against decay : surely, a most illogical hypothesis, as though 
a people who disbelieved the immortality of the soul were 
likely to take such strict measures of precaution in behalf 
of the body. 

The following explanation appears to me more natural. 
In the numerous secret societies which were spread through 
Egypt, many representations and views prevailed very dif- 
ferent from the popular belief, which in no country was more 
superstitious : sometimes perhaps a clear light amidst the 
thickest darkness ; but certainly a variety of different 
opinions : so that Pythagoras might have learned a doctrine 
in Egypt, which was not universally prevalent there, but of 
Indian origin. 

The Indian doctrine of metempsychosis rested on a con- 
ception of the origin of all things in and from Grod ; it was 
supposed that the state of existence in this world was one 
of wretchedness and imperfection, the consequence of guilt 
and sin : that all creatures, but especially mankind, roamed 
through a vast variety of shapes and forms, and were either 
falling lower in the scale of creation by increased offence, 
or, by the inward purification of their whole nature, were 
gradually approaching perfection, and returning to the 
divine Original from whom they sprung. 

This essentially resembles the philosophy of Plato : and 
it was from this similarity, as also the influence of oriental 
theories on the philosophic systems of Europe, that we 
started when entering on these observations. But before 
resuming the thread of our enquiry at that point, let us 
more attentively examine India, in a twofold point of view : — 
first, the condition in which the Greeks, under Alexander, 
found that country, and, second, the appearance it has pre- 
sented to the moderns, as we have become acquainted with it 
under the British rule. 

India was the most Eastern region of which the Greeks had 
anything like a circumstantial, though still imperfect, cogni- 
zance. As conquerors, they trod its soil more than once, and, 



112 COMMEECE OE THE GEEEKS AND ROMANS WITH INDIA. 

for a brief season, they succeeded in establishing their domi- 
nion on one part of it. With the coasts, and other accessi- 
ble parts, they were made acquainted entirely through their 
own voyages of discovery. Increasing commerce had enabled 
them to maintain continuous intercourse with Alexandria, 
and with Egypt generally, that had now been brought under 
Grecian sway ; perhaps, too, there is little room to doubt of 
mutual intellectual correspondence. But with the remote 
East, with China, the Greeks, as indeed the whole of the 
West, had no direct communication, and but a very imper- 
fect acquaintance. 

It has already been shewn how the doctrine of transmi- 
gration of souls, indigenous to India, was brought into Greece, 
from Egypt, by Pythagoras. Commerce with India dates 
back as far as most records of civilized countries go. Alexan- 
der, after him the Ptolemies, especially Philadelphus, opened 
up to it the great high road to which Egypt owes her pros- 
perity and wealth under these rulers. IJnder the Romans, 
likewise, Indian commerce was maintained on this route at 
once the nearest and most natural, until the circumnaviga* 
tion of Africa led to the discovery of another mode of tran- 
sit. But is it probable that Alexander and the Ptolemies 
would have conceived and executed this design, unless a 
certain degree of traffic had been already established, unless 
previous experience had proved its feasibility ? An early 
connection between these two countries is the less doubtful 
that the Egyptian division into castes greatly resembles the 
social regulations of India, whilst no two mythologies have 
such close affinity as those appertaining to the two regions 
in question. This circumstance was materially confirmed by 
an occurrence that took place during the last war. On the 
landing of an Indian corps, led by British officers, in Egypt, 
some of those huge memorials of which the gigantic size has 
often excited the wonder and insatiable curiosity of Euro- 
peans, impressed the Indians with feelings of a different 
kind. They fell flat upon their faces, under the impression 
that they were worshipping the gods of their own country. 

The people of India, with their time-hallowed customs 
and notions, to which they obstinately adhere, may, them- 
selves, be regarded as a living memorial of the past, human 



Alexander's invasion oe italt. 113 

ruins of a former world ; and it is not without commisera- 
ting sympathy that we view their present degradation. 

When Alexander invaded the north of India from the 
same tract that facilitated the approach of conquerors both 
before and after his time — from Persia — the strange appear- 
ance of the inhabitants impressed the Greeks as powerfully 
as it did the Europeans in modern times, when they found 
the country they had so long sought. But though the 
Greeks met with many strange sights in that country, as in 
Egypt : yet their eyes no where encountered a religion so 
opposite to their own, as among the Hebrews and Persians. 
Here, as in Egypt, they found themselves on old familiar 
ground — a poetic polytheism — of which, at least, the broad 
outlines corresponded to their own. Individual deities, though 
somewhat different as to complexion and proportions, were 
recognized by them, or thought to be so : this relative cor- 
respondence or difference they significantly expressed by the 
appellations of Indian Hercules or Indian Bacchus. "We 
may feel sure that very little, really remarkable, escaped 
their lively fancy and keen observation. But however prone 
to exaggeration or invention the Greeks may have become in 
consequence of the many novelties that crowded upon their 
imagination, and for which they may easily be pardoned, 
much that is described by the writers of this period as having 
been observed in the course of Alexander's expeditions has 
been certified by subsequent testimony. Notwithstanding 
many misconceptions and erroneous impressions on single 
points, which admit of easy explanation, the general impres- 
sion of India entertained by the Greeks was both accurate 
and conformable to our present knowledge of that country. 
In their time they met with some of those recluses, men- 
tioned in the sacred books of the Hindoos, of whose odd 
demeanour missionaries and English travellers have given us 
well-authenticated reports : the Greeks called them gymno- 
sophists.* Two philosophical or religious sects then divided 
India : the BracJimans and Samaneans, and we may still 
trace distinct systems of Indian philosophy in her older 
literature : with this difference only, that the younger of 
these two systems at no time spread so extensively in India 

* Referring to one of their ascetic practices. — Transl. note 
I 



114 SACKED BOOKS OF THE HINDOOS. 

as the elder branch, inasmuch as it was opposed to the 
existing arrangement of castes, and vigorously attacked the 
exclusive supremacy of the Brahmins. But over Thibet, 
China, and throughout central and northern Asia it was 
sown broadcast. The very term Samaneans, is purely of 
Indian extraction, denoting equable, evenness of disposition, 
which those hermits considered the first requisite to the 
attainment of perfection. Schaman, a term spread over a 
considerable portion of the Tartar races as also those inha- 
biting northern and central Asia, and denominating their 
priests and magicians, is doubtless derived from the same 
source, and was originally one and the same word. 

The older Indian sect reveres Brama and his active agent, 
his prophet and spirit, Menu. The fabulous chronology of 
the Bramins affects even their literature, the early por- 
tions of which they ascribe to names that are altogether 
mythical, and of fictitious date. European critics having 
once been surprised into blind admission of this fabulous 
antiquity, it is not very strange that there are some who now 
fall into the other extreme, and regard the age of all Hindoo 
productions with feelings of suspicion, if not positive incre- 
dulity. Such a proceeding cannot fail to be unjustifiable in 
individual cases. Whilst the Vedahs, to which, as being the 
oldest sacred records, and embodying a complete liturgy, 
curiosity was, naturally, first directed, perhaps least answered 
the general expectation : the JJjpanishat, at once a running 
commentary on the Vedahs, and a supplementary extension 
of the same, have richer dogmatic contents, though framed 
in the spirit of the Vedanta doctrines, and therefore refer- 
able to the comparatively later period of Vyasa. The legislative 
code of Menu, translated by Sir William Jones, of all In- 
dian works whose treasures faithful translation has unlocked 
to our use, bears the fewest traces of irresponsible revision or 
anonymous interpolation. It is a code of laws, indeed, but 
after the manner of antiquity, embracing the whole of life, 
being a complete social manual and portraiture, a poetic 
creed of deity and pneumatology, an account of the origin 
of man and of the world. Before the existence of prose in 
Greece, aphoristic sentences, short narratives, and such sparse 
fragments of law as were then prevalent, were couched in 
homely verse, devoid of ornament ; in like manner, this In- 



THE INSTITUTES OP MENU. 115 

dian code is framed in distiches of most primitive construc- 
tion. Many of the apophthegms are ingenious, some few 
passages rise to poetic beauty and sublimity. The pervading 
element, affecting all the social arrangements so peculiar to 
the ancient Hindoos, is the doctrine of transmigration of 
souls. Perhaps no other people was so fully influenced in 
feeling, thought and act, by a thorough conviction of the 
immortality of the soul, and of the certainty of a future 
life. In the poetic, popular belief of the Greeks, the world 
of shades formed the only back-ground to a life passed in 
sensuous glee and hearty merriment : the Indians may be 
said to reverse this, substituting the certainty of a future 
existence for that of a dreamy present, and rating the im- 
portance of events generally by a corresponding standard. 
All happy occurrences in this life are viewed by them as a 
mere preparation for that which is to come, while reverses 
and calamities of every kind are only penal expiations of 
former crime and error. The closest ties of nature receive 
a consecrating unction from this doctrine. For it teaches 
that the relationship of father and son, is in its inmost 
nature, of such strict affinity, that death itself avails not to 
interrupt the union, and that a son alone can effect the de- 
liverance of his father's soul. The nuptial bond is the more 
sacred, that it is valid for more than the present life. In 
short, this spirit breathes in all Hindoo productions, deeds, 
and fictions, and is characteristic of their habits of thought. 
From the descriptive poetry of the Hindoos we may learn 
to judge what influence this mode of thinking has on all their 
relations and feelings, and what kind of poetry, of feelings of 
beauty and love, can accompany notions that appear to us so 
strange. "What we chiefly admire in their poetry is that tender 
fondness of solitude and the animated vegetable kingdom, that 
so attracts us in the drama of Sakuntala ; the traits of 
female grace and fidelity, and the exquisite loveliness of 
childhood, of such prominent interest in the older epic 
legends of India. We are likewise struck with the touching 
pathos accompanying deep moral feeling, when the bard 
terms conscience "the hermit or seer in the heart," from 
whom nothing is hidden ; and when he assures us that guilt 
cannot fail of being discovered, for not only do gods and 
the inner man know it, but nature herself that we call inani- 



^_ 



116 IMMOLATION OF HINDOO WIDOWS. 

mate, the " sun and moon, fire and air, heaven, earth and 
sea shudder at it," and dread it as an outrage against nature, 
and a derangement of the universe. Somewhat more foreign to 
our sympathies, yet not without touching contrast, are some 
of those harrowing accounts which treat of the tortures of 
Indian penitents, or the immolations of Indian widows. 
This latter practice can, indeed, be viewed only with feelings 
of the strongest abhorrence ; if quite voluntary on the part 
of the victim it amounts to suicide, if brought about by 
compulsory exhortation, it is a human sacrifice, and is 
doubly horrible when separating tender mothers from their 
children. European rale has aimed at an extinction of these 
sacrifices wherever it extended. The neighbourhood of 
Calcutta has, nevertheless, teemed of late with instances of 
this unnatural exhibition. It must be remembered that the 
British sway in India is based on a strict observance of the 
indigenous customs, manners and laws of that country. Hence, 
whatever may have been the amount of individual rapacity 
and oppression, British occupancy of India has, on the whole, 
been eminently beneficial to Hindoo interests, inasmuch as 
protection has been afforded against the persecution of in- 
tolerant Mahometans. The greater the extension of British 
conquests in India, the more politic does this rigid obser- 
vance of native prejudices appear ; the more so, as a very 
slight violation of them sufficed, on a recent occasion, to ex- 
cite a mutinous spirit N among the Sepoys. And thus, it will 
easily be understood how a cautious and steady adherence 
to this policy may extend to culpable, though tacit, permis- 
sion of such rites as incremation and immolation. The 
number of instances recorded may, probably, derive an ac- 
cession from the circumstance, that increase of population 
emboldens their zeal ; whilst it is not impossible that the 
Bramins miss no opportunity of feeding popular fanaticism 
by means of such spectacles. In order to explain so strange 
a custom, it has been alleged that jealousy was not without 
its influence in the matter, and that it had been devised for 
the purpose of oppressing the female sex ; but this is im- 
probable, as it does not harmonize with the injunctions to 
be found in all Indian law, and exemplified in the poetry 
respecting the reverence to be paid to the sex. Oppression, 
and slight of this sort, are totally at variance with the genius 



THE SANSCRIT LANGUAGE. 117 

of Indian philosophy ; though, it is true, Mahometan example 
may, latterly, have given an impetus to the exercise of such 
sentiments. A more appropriate reason has been suggested 
in reference to incremation : namely, iu allusion to offering 
to the shades of departed warriors, especially among savage 
and warlike tribes, their arms and favourite steeds, with 
every kind of requisite for life in the next world, as well as 
an attendant train of slaves. On such occasions, iri the first 
outburst of passionate agony, the familiar friend, or the be- 
trothed lover, rushes into the devouring flame or the yawn- 
ing tomb, as if it were fitting that no attachment should 
survive the illustrious deceased. In India, too, female im- 
molation, ostensibly voluntary, but not unfrequently induced 
by forcible persuasion, was originally confined to tbe military 
caste. At no time universal, in former ages, probably, very 
rare, this custom was rather one of admired heroism than 
actual occurrence. The certainty of personal reunion in a 
future life, doubtless had its share in influencing tender 
mothers to do what would else be inconceivable ; the more 
so, that maternal affection is represented in various delinea- 
tions of Indian manners to exceed, if possible, its ordinary 
tenderness. 

Since Britain has re-opened general access to the India of 
ancient and modern times, the old Indian language has 
attracted not a little European attention. Justly is it called 
Sanskrit, i. e., perfect, finished. In its structure and gram- 
mar, it closely resembles the Greek, but is infinitely more 
regular, and therefore more simple, though not less rich. It 
combines the artistic fulness indicative of Greek develop- 
ment, the brevity and nice accuracy of Latin; whilst, having 
a near affinity to the Persian and Germanic roots, it is dis- 
tinguished by expression as enthusiastic and forcible as 
theirs. The ancient Indian language may be termed a 
priestly tongue in the fullest sense of the word, like the 
Hebrew, to which, however, it bears but slight similarity. 
Just as the leading nations of antiquity are characterized 
and classed according to the predominant tone of their 
social division into castes, being sacerdotal, warrior, or com- 
mercial peoples respectively; precisely so is it with lan- 
guages. Among the idioms descended from kindred stock 
and connected family alliance, the old Latin is most like 



118 THE SAKUNTALA. 

Sanskrit in this sacerdotal feature. Greek constitutes the 
transition from this class to poetic, heroic language : the 
same element almost exclusively prevails in the Persian and 
Germanic dialects, whilst the Slavonic idioms, in so far as 
they really belong to this great family of languages, have 
probably issued from the slave-caste ; and though originally 
possessing an equally artistic structure, have retained only 
such colloquial forms as are required for daily use. 

Of all Indian poetry with which we have become familiar, 
the Sakuntala (translated by Sir ~W. Jones with the utmost 
fidelity) is most calculated to impress the student with a 
sense of the peculiar beauty of that branch of Eastern 
literature. There is no high and dignified arrangement — 
no strict severity of style, as in Greek tragedy. Tenderness 
of feeling, genial grace, artless beauty pervade the whole ; 
and if, at times, the fondness for an indolent solitude, the 
delight excited by the beauty of nature, especially the vege- 
table kingdom, are here and there dwelt upon with a pro- 
fusion of imagery and poetic ornament, it is only the adorn- 
ment of innocence. The description is everywhere lucid 
and unpretentious, the diction marked by ingenuous sim- 
plicity. The lover of poetry may form, from this work, even 
in a German prose translation, divested of tbe charms of 
lyric metre, an idea of the genius of the Indian muse. It 
may be of some importance to criticism to decide whether 
Kalidas was contemporary with Yirgil, as Sir William Jones 
assumes ; or with Firdusi,* as would be the case if Yikra- 
maditya, his patron, flourished at a later period: but as 
regards the intrinsic worth of the poetry, the question is 
altogether immaterial. The flowery verse of Kalida's is 
extremely unlike the simple grandeur of the older heroics: 
no less so the language. But the inner poetic spirit of both 
has much that is uniform : at any rate, the distinctive dif- 
ference is by no means so striking as in the several periods 
and gradations of Grecian poetic development. 

The account given by Indian mythology of the origin of 

* Isnak Ben Scheriffschah, the most celebrated of Persian poets. Popu- 
lar opinion fixes his date at 1020, a.d., in opposition to Sir W. Jones's 
theory : an opposition at once hazardous and difficult. His ScJianameJi, 
i.e. Book of Kings, is the history of Persia in 60,000 verses, at which the 
poet laboured 40 years.— Transl. note. 



ORIGIN OF SANSCRIT VERSIFICATION. 119 

versification entirely corresponds with the general spirit of 
its poesy. Valmiki the sage, the reputed author of the 
other great epic, the Ramayan, is reported in the fable to 
have observed two loving birds building a nest in a delightful 
wood; in the midst of their cheerful toils, the male was 
struck dead by a missile from some rude and unseen hand. 
Sympathizing with the doleful plaints of the widowed bird, 
the sage poured forth his sorrows in rhythmical accents : 
hence elegy and distich, or scldoka, ever after became the 
standard of Indian minstrelsy. We have already adverted 
to Aphorism, the original form common to every species of 
effort intended to endure in metrical literature, and in which 
the older doctrines of philosophy, as also poetic productions, 
are still found embodied; twin offspring, reposing, as it 
were, in the self-same cradle of inspiration. Indian aphorism 
is metrical, like Greek distich, but differs from the rhythmical 
vivacity of the latter in stricter evenness of harmony, and a 
process of thought almost symmetrical : this peculiar struc- 
ture of the scldoka, imparting to it an air of great placidity, 
which, combined with the other characteristic — dignified sim- 
plicity — makes it highly suitable for the fictitious legend and 
imagery of a pre-existing gigantic world. It will serve to 
illustrate the fable respecting the origin of verse, if we bear 
in mind that the essential doctrine of Indian philosophy 
maintained that suffering human souls were confined in 
those delicate animal forms. Tender delicacy of feeling, 
elegiac love, cast a halo over Indian poetry. The legendary 
minstrelsy of the country is based on the Titanic shapes arid 
forms represented in the Indian rock- sculpture in all direc- 
tions : but the whole is re-cast in the mould of harmonious 
softness, and is redolent of elegiac sweetness. In some such 
strains Yalmiki sings of Rama, the popular Indian hero, 
how, roving in the woods and forests, a melancholy exile, he 
lost his beloved Sita, how he sought her in vain for many a 
long year, and at last found her. But in heroic and sublime 
descriptions Indian poetry is likewise rich, and the sunny, 
cheerful aspect of life is drawn in that comprehensive epic 
which, in an introductory hymn, is likened to an impetuous 
torrent : " issuing from the mountains of Yalmiki and preci- 
pitating itself into the sea of Rama, which is altogether free 
from impurities, and rich in streams and flowers." 



120 THE GITA GOTINDA AND H1TOPADESA. 

Gita Govinda is an eclogue of cheerful contents, breathing 
the ardent inspiration of love. It sings of Krishna,* wan- 
dering about on earth, like the Apollo of the Greeks, at- 
tended by nine shepherdesses. It is not, however, so much 
an Idyl as a series of difchyrambic love-songs, the exquisitely 
lyrical form of which Sir William Jones was not able to 
transfuse into his version. The import probably did not 
admit of a literal rendering : he only aimed at giving an 
epitome, a feeble copy of the original. But even from this 
the lover of poetry may form some idea of the beauty of the 
original. The well-known Indian fable-book, Hitopadesa, 
the source of so many other collections of fables, has been 
translated with almost verbal fidelity. Clearness of nar- 
rative is its distinguishing feature : a selection of beautiful 
passages from old poems, and maxims of wisdom, are har- 
moniously blended. The narrative, indeed, mainly sub- 
serves to string these aphorisms and poetic sentences toge- 
ther, as a poetical garland : intended to arouse reflection, as 
well as exercise the memory of youth. It need hardly be 
said that much which is repugnant to our notions is met 
with in this species of poetry. 

The translations of Wilkins, Jones, and some of those who 
followed in their track, as Colebrooke, are the only ones to 
be relied uponf But few French versions are satisfactory, 
since, having for the most part been rendered from some 
later idiom, remodelled in its structure, instead of the actual 
original, they are full of omissions, mutilations, and spurious 
additions. This is especially the case with the Bagavadam, 
the only one of the eighteen Puranas as yet translated. 
Other works, the efforts of those who were likewise ignorant 
of the purely indigenous Hindoo idiom, contain mere oral 
communications of the Bramins, irregularly mixed up with 
extracts from ancient or modern records. Of the ancient, 
Roger and many other works of travellers may be mentioned 
as the chief source, of the modern, the collection formed 

* The name of this deity must not be confounded with that of a stream, 
which, rising in the Western Ghauts ( East India) discharges its waters 
into the Bay of Bengal. — Transl. note. 

f Of those who have laboured to extend a critical knowledge of Hindoo 
literature in Germany, the name of A. W. Schlegel deserves not to be 
entirely forgotten. [This is no empty flattery, or mere token of fraternal 
affection on the part of our author. — TranslJ} 



Mi 



THE OTJPKEKHAT AND UPANISCHATS. 121 

from Poller's* bequest. All the Mahometan treatises on 
Indian subjects are to be used with great caution, and 
with this discrimination, that where they treat, historically, 
of the present condition of the country, their testimony 
may be accepted as that of eye-witnesses: as in their 
full report of India made under the direction of the Em- 
peror Akbar, and called Ayeen Akbery. "Whilst all detailed 
accounts of older Indian philosophy, through the medium 
of analysis or translation, are to be regarded with conside- 
rable mistrust; owing to their defective criticism, their 
unscrupulous principles of translation, and their native inca- 
pacity to penetrate the depths of Indian thought. Hence 
Oupnekliat is one of the most obscure sources of information 
relative to Indian antiquities : nearly useless, and with which 
the student can the better afford to dispense, that there are 
other and better memorials. In order to be convinced of 
the utter worthlessuess of this Persian bungling performance, 
it is only necessary to compare some of the passages with 
genuine translations from the Upaniscliats by Colebrooke. 
Careful discrimination and caution are especially needed 
throughout the vast extent of Indian literature, when it is 
remembered that the Bramins are in the habit of attributing 
high antiquity to all such w r orks as refer to their mythology 
and philosophic system. Alexander, and Sandrocottus who 
was the successor of Porus, are repeatedly mentioned in 
Indian records. This circumstance, of itself, fixes their date. 
In other works there are allusions to early Mahometan times. 
Yet, care must be taken not to infer too hastily from any 
isolated passage, that the character of a whole work is 
genuine, or with equal rashness, to brand it as spurious. 

That oscillation, which is so characteristic of the olden 
species of Greek literature, and which is inseparable from all 
oral tradition, is not so marked a feature of Indian literature. 
It may be assumed that even the oldest works possess uni- 
form evenness and style. It is somewhat surprising to find 
no traces of hieroglyphs in connexion with a mythology 
visibly memorialized in clefts and rocky caverns throughout 

* Born in 1741 at Lausanne. Thorough master of Arahic, Hindoo, 
Persic, and Sanskrit ; forty-two Manuscripts in his own hand are to he 
found in the Paris Library. He composed an Indian Mythology in Englivb f 
never printed hut translated into French : Paris, 1809. — Transl. note. 



122 THE -BHAGAVATG1TA. 

the whole of India : whilst the Phoenician alphabet, as well 
as all derived from it, more especially those of Western Asia 
and.Europe, probably all descended from one common stock, 
in their very shape and name betray a cognate reference 
to a previous system of signs, or hieroglyphics. The Indian 
alphabet bears no such internal evidence, its structure being, 
on the contrary, adverse to a supposition of this nature. 
This is in many ways remarkable, as also the adoption of 
decimal ciphers, the honour of which, next to letters the 
most important of human discoveries, has, with the common 
consent of historical authorities, been ascribed to the 
Hindoos. Eut if Indian literature has been more fortunate 
than the Greek in escaping the dangers arising from recita- 
tion, it has suffered much more from intentional corruption 
and anonymous remodelling. The more this is perceived to 
have taken place in some cases, the more reliable are the 
contents of those works which seem to be free from similar 
blemishes. The Puranas, a kind of mythologic legends, are 
most open to doubts of their genuineness. The two great 
Epics, before alluded to, are pretty generally received as 
genuine by all who are familiar with them. Of all well known 
books, the legislative records of Menu bear the most evident 
and palpable impress of high antiquity and unimpeachable 
originality. Whoever engages his attention in studies of 
this sort will have sensible proofs, both from the contents 
and the form of expression, that the work in question is a 
relic of remote ages, and of sterling value. Sir W. Jones, 
the greatest Orientalist of the eighteenth century, and the 
most distinguished philologist England ever produced, as- 
signs to it a date somewhat subsequent to Homer, but still 
prior to the Roman laws of the Twelve Tables.* It appears 
to me to admit of little doubt that, with some other works, 
it has remained in its present form and unaltered state at 
least since the days of Alexander. 

Next in rank, by way of introduction to the study of 
Indian philosophy, is Bhagavatgita, a didactic poem, trans- 
lated by Wilkins. It contains the modern system of Indian 
thought, connected by a common origin with the doctrines 

* These laws, introducing- one uniform civil law for patricians and ple- 
beians, themselves explain the probable period of their institution.— 
Transl. note. 



THE BHAGAYATGITA. 123 

of the religious sect found in India by the Greeks, and called 
by them Sainaneans, in contradistinction to the Brachmans. 
It is an episode of the Epic — Mahabharat — but philosophical 
throughout. It may almost be styled a manual of Indian 
mysticism ; it is in great repute, and the best exponent of 
the actual Indian mind. There is a remarkable peculiarity 
about this book, as regards the unmeasured praise bestowed 
on leading deities, either not found at all in Menu's laws, 
or, at most, passed over without comment : whilst the old 
doctrines, the Vedas, and polytheism generally, are roughly 
handled. The essential creed expounded is that of an ab- 
solute divine unity, absorbing all distinction, and engulphing 
all things. Yet, in so far as it is connected with mythology, 
it may be termed poetic pantheism, not unlike the Neo-Pla- 
tonic philosophy, which, it will be remembered, combined, 
under somewhat similar circumstances, with the then popular 
belief, in its last throes^ expecting by these means to revive 
its drooping energies. The worship of Vishnu and Krishna, 
now universally prevalent in Hindostan, differs only in one 
particular — that of retaining the division into castes — from 
the religion of Buddha and Eo, which was transplanted from 
India to Thibet and China,in the first century of Christianity, 
and disseminated throughout central and northern Asia. 

Upon the whole, the appearance of this latter, historical, 
Buddha, whose religion, though all but extinct in Hindostan 
proper, is spread over so many countries to the South, North, 
and East of India, as to include more adherents than Chris- 
tianity or Mahometanism, constitutes the great historical 
turning-point in the mental and religious culture of India ; 
from which the lines of progress diverge, on the one hand 
to the antique, on the other to the improvements of modern 
times. Taking this as a central point, we shall be enabled 
more clearly to discern the gradations that obtain in the 
various systems of Hindoo philosophy : whilst, at present, 
we are familiar only with the Yedanta-doctrines that were 
in vogue during the last epoch : the collective literary riches 
of the country, of great extent and value, being, for the most 
part, one chaotic mass of ill-defined, unassorted materials. 
Those are to be condemned who engage in the unprofitable 
dispute as to the relative priority of Brama's or Buddha's 
religious system, since a purely historical investigation at 



124 BUDDHISM. 

once decides the question at issue. The early, fabulous, 
accounts of Buddha's incarnations as little deserve our notice 
as the predictions of a coming Buddha, who, after the lapse 
of the specified thousands of years, is to be born of a Female 
Bramin. But the Beformer of the old Brama- worship, 
unanimously styled Gautama Buddha, who instituted the 
Nyaya-philosophy, is a real historic personage, recognized by 
Buddhists of the present day, in all countries, as the divine 
founder of their religion. We will not stop to examine the 
opinion, advanced by some antiquarians, relative to the 
existence of an earlier Buddha or Wodan, and the circum- 
stances of his worship, alleged to have extended over the 
north of Asia and Europe ; further than adverting to the 
detriment, resulting from such vague, unfounded statements, 
sustained by genuine historic information, in the course of 
investigating the particulars of ancient nature-worship. 
Gautama's name forms a great and decisive epoch in India: 
Socrates and Epicurus among the Greeks effected changes far 
less important : Zoroaster in Persia, Confucius in China, were 
not so generally revered as benefactors to their country : 
whilst in numerical extent of influence, Gautama Buddha 
swayed the destinies of more millions of human beings than 
the four together. In point of time, his followers in Ceylon, 
Siam, and the Burman empire agree in fixing the date of his 
epoch about 600 B.C. and the time of his disappearance from 
the earth 540 B.C. 

"When Alexander reached India, the Greeks found two 
distinct religious sects, fully established, with the respective 
appellations of Brachmans and Samaneans, the latter in- 
cluding, as we have before said, the adherents of Gautama. 
Some time must, necessarily, have elapsed before religious 
ferment subsided, and matters thus quietly settled down. 
The Buddhists inhabiting Thibet and China assign an earlier 
period to their founder, somewhere about 1000 B.C. But 
the other chronological theory is both amply sufficient to 
explain the state of matters in Alexander's time, and may be 
regarded as the more probable of the two. The main subject, 
however, for consideration, in reference to a thorough enquiry 
into the character of Indian development at that period, and 
of Hindoo literature on the whole, is the characteristic 
feature of Gautama's philosophy, and the other ancient 
systems of India. The most notable of these are known to 



TIIE SANKHTA DOCTRINE. 125 

us very imperfectly, in consequence of the jealous feeling 
that has induced the prevalent system to push all rivals into 
the background : nevertheless, it has not succeeded in en- 
tirely annihilating memorials and reminiscences of incon- 
testable authenticity that express the spirit of dogmas serving 
as the rallying-points of the several sects. To this point the 
researches of enquirers ought in future to tend, if there be 
a desire thoroughly to elucidate the obscurity of Indian 
antiquities. Among nations possessing indigenous philosophy 
and metaphysics, together with an innate relish for these 
pursuits, such as at present characterizes Germany, and, in 
olden times, was the proud distinction of Greece, Hindostan 
holds the first rank in point of time. On that account her 
philosophy deserves attention in preference to her other 
mental products. In reference to the various gradations of 
her systems, it will suffice here to ascertain the broad out- 
lines, the pervading idea of her philosophy : not so much for 
arranging what may be considered as already established, as 
for furnishing a clue to particulars for future investigation. 
General testimony concurs in naming as the oldest Hindoo 
system, the Sankhya-doctrine, attributed to Kapila, whom 
an ingenious critic likens to Enoch in Genesis : it is to him 
that we must undoubtedly look for the most ancient phi- 
losophy of primeval times. The two principles it embodies, 
not as antagonist, like light and darkness in the Persian 
philosophy, but in close union — Puruschottama and Prakriti, 
— the latter corresponding to the Maya of the other systems, 
are not to be understood as God and Nature merely, but as 
metaphysical generals — Spirit and Soul : in the combination 
of which everything consists, and by their junction all things 
are produced. This doctrine of Spirit and Soul, the two 
principles of being, forasmuch as spirit can only be known 
in and by the soul, is a pure spiritualism, such as naturally 
and spontaneously proceeded from the psychological views 
of the first sages. It is not difficult to mark the progress by 
which the primitive doctrine, deviating from its original 
simplicity, came to degenerate into poetical polytheisms, 
which, resting on an imperfect or misconstrued sidereal basis, 
became the source of heathen mythology stamped with a 
common impress among peoples the most remote from each 
other in time and place, and which was affected only by 
local peculiarities. India is preeminently distinguished for 



126 THE NTATA DOCTRINE. 

the many traits of original grandeur of thought, and of the 
wonderful remains of immediate knowledge, as well as of 
the sacred traditions of the primitive world. Of this 
poetical polytheism, subsequently set in scientific order, and 
constituting abstract conceptions, the most decided ma- 
terialism was a natural and almost necessary consequence : 
and the copious list of varied material systems proves that 
this was the case in more than one epoch of Hindostan. 
Many celebrated nations of antiquity remained stationary at 
this point of material paganism, without further progress. 
Here and there the very magnitude of the evil elicited its 
own remedy, the boundless confusion and extravagance of 
heathen doctrines itself demanding and producing energetic 
reform. This was precisely the case in India, at a period 
when other nations too shewed symptoms of a similar spirit, 
about the sixth century before the Christian era, when the 
renowned Gautama, the last historic Buddha, effected an 
entire change in religious as well as philosophic tenets. The 
JSTyaya-doctrine, attributed to Gautama, from all that we 
can now learn, was an Idealism, constructed with a purity 
and logical consistency of which there are few other in- 
stances, and to which the Greeks never attained : it ap- 
proximates somewhat to scientific Atheism, but of a more 
abstract character, and not at all like our practical notions 
of the same, since it accords with the severest external 
morality. Several accounts of this doctrine met with in 
Chinese records entirely coincide with this view. It is 
possible that many of the false sects of Nastiks or Nihilists in 
India were led by the idealistic doctrine of an absolute 
nothing to attach themselves to the original, purer and better, 

Nyaya. '.','. 

Of the classic systems of Indian philosophy, that of Mi- 
mansa, advocating as it does the principle of movement and 
activity in preference to absolute repose, seems to approach 
very nearly to the Xyaya Idealism. Diametrically opposed 
to this is the now prevalent and, if we may so call it, ortho- 
dox Vedanta-doetrine, though it, too, indirectly originated 
in the period of Gautama's reform. Embracing the positive 
elements of Hindoo religion and tradition, this doctrine is, 
virtually, an attempt to rescue ancient Brama- worship and 
its associated mythology from Buddhist innovation, by means 
of a spiritual interpretation of the Vedas. as the name itself 



THE VEDANTA DOCTEINE. 127 

shews. The actual philosophic import of Vedanta-doctrine 
is easily gathered : it is pure pantheism, most easily adapt- 
ing itself to every species of heathen mythology, especially 
as the Idealism which can with difficulty be maintained in 
its entire strictness, so easily inclines to it, as persons 
versed in philosophical history well know from other in- 
stances. This pantheism, according to the Vedanta-doc- 
trine, pervading the whole of Indian literature since Vyasa's 
time, is satisfactorily epitomized in Bhagavatgita, and is 
abundantly known to us, inasmuch as all classic Hindoo 
works, in every branch of literature, are more or less com- 
posed, or at any rate remodelled, in the spirit of this doc- 
trine. The fourth Veda, Atharvan Ved, and its appendix, 
the mystic Upanishats, are framed in the Vedanta-doctrine. 
So are all the Puranas ; as also all that is ordinarily attri- 
buted to Vyasa, a name designating the epoch when this 
doctrine grew to be of universal application. It has already 
been observed that the Mahabharat has come down to us 
only in the revised form of a Vedanta edition : it is not im- 
probable that the Kamayan underwent similar revision. We 
are not competent to express an opinion on the merits of 
the first three Vedas : Menu's book of laws seems to be un- 
influenced by the Vedanta-doctrine, and this fact is strongly 
in favour of its comparative antiquity and originality. Ac- 
cording to reliable evidence, the works treating of the other 
systems of Sankhya- and Nyaya-doctrine, which the Vedanta 
attacks, have not all perished : on the contrary, a tolerable 
number are still extant, though as yet they have not re- 
ceived the attention they deserve. The points of dispute in 
the several philosophic systems are strikingly declared, in 
Prabodh Chandrodaya (the rising moon of knowledge) a 
philosophical comedy, exhibiting many interesting traits of 
the older doctrines, and from the pen of a Vedanta writer. 
These elder systems merit especially the closest attention, 
and we cannot recommend them too earnestly to the student 
of Indian antiquities, in order that by a closer acquaintance 
with them, he may attain a clearer conception of the pro- 
gressive steps of the intellectual development of India and 
of the most important epochs of its thinking and philoso- 
phy ; he will thus be enabled to form more exact notions of 
what I have here only slightly indicated, perhaps in some 



128 THE INDIAN GYMNOSOPHISTS. 

measure differently, and to supply what is wanting from the 
original sources. 

Let us now consider the more prominent peculiarities of 
the religion and philosophy of Hindostan in reference to 
their influence on life generally, and as compared with simi- 
lar or approximate ideas in our European world and creed. 

Those Indian E-ecluses or Gymnosophists who appeared 
so strange to the Greeks, belong to both the Hindoo philo- 
sophic systems — Bramins and Samaneans or Buddhists — 
emanating from conceptions common to both. Their retired 
habits, their withdrawal from the world for the purposes of 
devotional contemplation, even their rigid penances, are 
vividly suggestive of the earlier Christian hermits in 
Egypt. But there is still a striking difference. Seclu- 
sion from the world and its concerns in a certain de- 
gree is so natural, that upon it the sages of Greece wholly 
based their mode of life. Critics have not been wanting 
who have compared this exclusion, especially as adopted by 
certain sects of Greek philosophers, with that of monastic 
societies. Not merely Plato, but even Aristotle, give the 
preference to mental occupation, contemplation, and reflec- 
tion, over external, practical activity. But if increased 
scope was thus afforded for the perfection of individuality, 
it is evident that the community were sufferers from the 
withdrawal of faculties that could least be spared from the 
general store. Again, the thought that self mast be merged 
in order to attain to higher perfection, is in itself anything 
but objectionable : but the self-imposed mortifications and 
tortures of those Indian B,ecluses have a tendency to deaden 
the faculties, to lead to the verge of insanity, and, so far 
from purifying the spirit and temper, are calculated to pro- 
mote vanity and pride rather than humility. In conformity 
with the genius of Christianity, withdrawal from social life, 
its obligations and privileges, should ever be joined to acti- 
vity, not only of mind, but of the heart ; so that the social 
stream may in some manner be replenished with some of the 
constituents abstracted from its elements. The collective 
civil energies are, for the most part, concentrated on a few 
special purposes, and a limited sphere of duty. Much is 
left to private enterprise seeking to extend its operations, 
wherever opportunity may offer. In the primitive, warlike, 
ages of nations, even the patronage of science and of the 



THE INDIAN TRINITY. 129 

peaceful arts comes under the operation of such an influence. 
And when the state has so far progressed in the development 
of its polity as to include these things within the circle of 
its obligations, inasmuch as it stands in need of them, there 
is still infirmity of every kind and degree to be regulated 
and assisted ; but if all this be accomplished, it is then ne- 
cessary to educate the citizen for other than mere civil re- 
quirements : in times of general corruption to maintain 
truth in full integrity, to bridge the past to the future. 
Such is the essential distinction that obtains between Chris- 
tian clergy who have renounced the world for the better 
culture of their moral nature, and the passive, degenerate 
torpor of Hindoo recluses and devotees. 

In addition to this common fondness for a solitary contem- 
plative life, there are other singular points of resemblance 
between Indian aud Christian practices. Tne Indian notion 
of a Trinity, sometimes adduced in proof, is by no means to 
be referred hereto. Something similar, a sort of triune 
elementary force is found in the conceptions of many nations, 
as in the majority of systems of philosophers. It is the 
universal form of existence communicated by a great first 
Cause to all its productions, the impress of Divinity, so to 
speak, stamped on spiritual thoughts as on physical shapes. 
The Indian doctrine of triple primary power is also quite 
different from that manifested in Christianity, and, as now 
understood and expounded in Hinclostan, most inconsistent, ■ 
since the spirit of destruction is included in that of a supreme 
Being. In thus uniting the ideas of destructive, with crea- 
tive and preservative Power, Hindoo belief is only a little 
less monstrous than that of Persia, which made the principle 
of destruction a powerful opponent, if not superior to a 
benevolent Deity. The doctrine that " Grod is All in All" 
implies, with them, that he is the originator of every evil 
tlimg, as well as of every thing that is good. 

The received opinion respecting the Incarnation falls short 
of harmonizing consistency in India, on account of the mul- 
titude of fables with which it is associated. A greater 
amount of harmony is evinced in the feeling that predomi- 
nates in the mode of life, and is evident in poetic represen- 
tations, and which I have sought to pourtray. The poetical, 
and other works of the Greeks, too often assume an air of 



130 THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF GUILT. 

artificial repose, so that those, who are both competent and 
disposed to appreciate these finished master-pieces of litera- 
ture, have been struck with the mere artistic feeling that 
animates them ; and have regretted the absence of a deeper 
pathos in situations where the moral affections and emotions 
of conscience might have been expected. [Repentance and 
Hope may indeed be termed eminently Christian feelings, 
that higher hope which is set upon Eternity. Alliedtherewith 
are all feelings referring to the contrast between our present 
condition and original perfection. In the creed of India, the 
sympathetic consciousness of guilt is the strongest of all 
feelings. It will be remembered that we have previously 
spoken of this universal sympathy of creation on the com- 
mission of crimes. The still voice of the heart — the Hin- 
doo periphrasis for conscience — is undoubtedly a sense con- 
necting us with an unseen world, which, but for this means, 
would be utterly concealed from our ken. But if the voice of 
this secret monitor is, at times, drowned in the hum and tur- 
moil of busy life, in other cases it may be excited too 
strongly, so that its power is overborne by the violence of the 
impressions. It is to conceptions and emotions of this sort 
that the Indian creed refers the varied phenomena of life, 
and shapes the aspect of nature herself. In all surrounding 
objects, the Hindoo beholds sentient beings like himself, 
suffering for some offence committed in a prior stage of 
existence, racked with sad memories and painful forebodings, 
fettered and imprisoned, and moaning to him in piteous 
accents of recognition and of grief. But for Love's balsam 
and the sweet tenderness of sympathy, the spirit would 
droop beneath its load of sorrow. 

Resemblance between the moral philosophy of India and 
of Christianity is most apparent in the view taken of the 
soul's regeneration when, illumined by Divine light, it quits 
its former life, and, like the rejuvenated phoenix, rises from 
its own ashes. This idea of regeneration is so prevalent 
throughout that country, that the Bramins desire to be 
called by no other name than " twice-born," in a similarly 
spiritual acceptation. But here again there is a wide dis- 
tinction. "With respect to hereditary privileges or advan- 
tages, Christianity never invades these when established by 
nature and reason j ignorant fanatics alone have sought to 



SIMILAMTY OF HINDOO AND CHRISTIAN CONCEPTIONS. 131 

consecrate a baseless fabric of political equality under the 
sanction of its awful name. On the other hand, Christianity 
has never ceased to assert that all men^ are equal in the 
sight of God : a principle that, of all others, is the noblest 
basis of liberty, mental as well as physical. But when the 
prompting of nature, the very gift of Heaven, showered 
down on the meanest and most low-born of this world equally 
with the occupants of thrones, is appropriated, as an heredi- 
tary prerogative, to some particular caste, it is evident that 
intolerable arrogance on the one part, and a degrading sense 
of inferiority on the other part, must necessarily ensue. 

This similarity, notwithstanding concomitant error and 
disfigurement, existing between certain Hindoo and Chris- 
tian conceptions, must not be regarded as entirely novel or 
borrowed, being, partly at least, established by historical 
testimony and really of old standing. Such an anticipation, 
however hazy and imperfect, of Truth, need not surprise us. 
Just as little as any similarities there may be found between 
the tenets of other Asiatics and Mosaic traditions, or the 
Allegories of Solomon, would justify the conclusion that 
these nations, like ourselves, had had a written version of 
the Scriptures before their eyes, from which they copied. 
Tributary streams, no longer altogether limpid, still mark 
the source whence they took their rise. The germs of all 
truth and virtue are implanted in man, the image of his 
Maker. Imperfect presentiments and emotions long fore- 
shadow the coming reality. The early champions of Chris- 
tianity found so much in the life and teaching of Socrates 
and Plato corresponding to their own notions, that they did 
not hesitate to pronounce their doctrines Christian. Just 
as the phenomena of nature are connected by the bond of a 
common vitality, and as rational thoughts follow each other 
in continuous sequence, so also are all truths referring to 
Divine things, linked in harmonious, though secret, unison. 
He to whom one thing is given is competent to experience 
higher perceptions : man cannot, of himself, produce that, 
any more than he could have fashioned his own mortal body. 
There are, indeed, trains of thought self-originating and 
created as it were, by man's own pow T ers : but such barren, 
useless thoughts are of a subtile cast, which are aimless and 
lose themselves in their own mazes. Truth and light dwell 



132 CONNECTION OF THE PERSIANS WITH INDIA. 

not in them, any more than, in morals, the fire of superci- 
lious arrogance or indignant vanity can be called a pure 
flame. If it be objected that further investigation and 
presentiment of the whole from a knowledge of particulars 
are ambiguous and unsafe, we would answer that similar 
ambiguity and equal uncertainty everywhere attend the 
erratic footsteps of the enquirer after truth. The great 
picture of human development becomes more finished, and 
the history of truth and error more full, in proportion as our 
cognizance extends to nations that have a peculiar genius of 
their own ; amongst the remotest Asiatic tribes, that which 
in our Western world was isolated and detached, is found 
combined. Thus whilst in regard to actual creed and reli- 
gion the Persians manifestly resemble the Hebrews, more 
than they do any other people of antiquity — the practical 
element of their doctrine is in obvious affinity with JS"orth- 
ern mythology, and many of their customs likewise coincide 
with those of the ancient Germans. In Indian mythology, 
which closely resembles that of Egypt and Greece, moral 
and philosophical conceptions bearing on certain Christian 
tenets abound. The communication of ideas between India 
and other nations having a share in a most ancient tradition 
and knowledge was doubtless of a reciprocal character. 
There is incontestable evidence of the Persians having held 
northern Hindostan under their sway before the time of 
Alexander, or at least of their having visited it, from time 
to time, in the capacity of conquerors. The doctrines of 
these warrior-bands were disseminated over India with the 
greater facility that, though differing in polity and system, 
both the vanquished and their masters were allied by the 
ties of a common idiom and descent. Alexander's expedi- 
tion and the arrival of the Greeks, together with their brief 
rule in that country, were probably not without some degree 
of influence on the national spirit and taste. In Greek cul- 
ture the close observer will find more of the foreign element" 
than at first meets the eye, on account of the happy freedom 
and versatile genius of the Greeks who stamped whatever 
they borrowed with an impress all their own ; so in India, 
an all-pervading idea modified, if it did not transform, all 
that was imported from the mental resources of other lands. 
If in earlier times, Hindostan received nothing from Egypt 



CHRISTIANS ON THE MALABAR COAST. 133 

in return for former benefits, it should be borne in mind that 
the principles of Christianity were transplanted to that 
country from Egypt, a circumstance that must, in some 
degree, have influenced later Indian writers. The first dis- 
semination of Christianity along the coast of Malabar is as- 
cribed to Apostolic times, and dates, at least, from the early 
Nestorian* period. There is likewise historical testimony 
to the effect that, about the end of the fourth, or the com- 
mencement of the fifth, century, a Christian mission pro- 
ceeded from Egypt to India. Commercial relations, too, 
existed between the two countries. So long as Armenia, 
Syria, Egypt, and Ethiopia were in the undisturbed enjoy- 
ment of Christian privileges, and either formed part of the 
Byzantine empire, or were on terms of the strictest amity 
with that power, the connection of the West with the East- 
ern world, through the medium of Constantinople, must 
have been of a facile and permanent character. The last 
writer that has recorded what he himself saw of India, 
found the Indian seas and harbours studded with Persian 
sails, in the sixth century.f On land, too, Persian power 
prevailed just before Mahomet's time, narrowing the boun- 
daries of the Eastern empire.- "When Egypt and Assyria 
were at length wrested from the Byzantine empire, under 
the administration of Mahomet's successors, communication 
with the far East was, for a time, interrupted, until its re- 
establishment at the period of the Crusades. 



LECTURE VI. 



Retrospect to Europe. — Ineluence oe Christianity on 
the Language and Literature oe Rome. — Charac- 
teristic oe the New Testament — The Nations of 
the North. — Gothic Epics — Odin, Runic Writings, 
the Edda. 

The period during which Oriental systems made their way 

* Nestorius was made Patriarch of Constantinople in 428 through the 
friendship of Theodosius ; he is known as the scourge of heretics, espe- 
cially Avians and Macedonians. — Transl. note. 

f Mr. Lockhart's version has, doubtless through inadvertence, sixteenth 
instead of sixth. — Transl. note. 



134* INFLUENCE OE EASTERN PHILOSOPHY. 

into Europe, and battled with each other, extends from Ha- 
drian to Justinian. The predominant influence of Eastern 
philosophy was shewn even in the early ages of Christianity. 
The fanatical sects that swarmed in the first centuries were, 
for the most part, such as desired to amalgamate Oriental 
mythology, and especially Persian dogmas, with the purity 
of a faith that could not possibly entertain the introduction 
of such elements. Even the foremost of the earliest Chris- 
tian philosophers — Origen — was attached to the doctrine of 
transmigration of souls and other notions not in accordance 
with the spirit of Christianity. JSFeo-Platonic philosophy, 
coalescing with the ancient creed and energetically resisting 
the progress of Christianity, exhibited the influence of 
Egyptian taste. This philosophy was a chaotic mixture of 
astrology, metaphysics, and mythology. Inclination to the 
secret practice of magic arts increased ; a practice involving 
not merely gross errors, but likewise the commission of 
hideous and revolting crimes. Such was the philosophy which 
the Emperor Julian proposed to substitute in the stead of 
Christianity, and exalt to the dignity of a dominant autho- 
rity. As Christianity made progress, its contest with old 
beliefs grew fiercer and more extensive. The natural and 
mutual antipathy of hostile creeds is, in itself, sufficient 
to account for the earlier persecutions suffered by the Chris- 
tians. But the systematic, methodical plans of Diocletian, 
in the third century, betray a deliberate determination to 
extirpate Christianity at any cost. Christianity had now, 
however, struck too deep a root to be removed, as was 
proved in the following* reign of Constantine ; in whose 
time it made very decided progress, although this should not 
be altogether ascribed to his, or indeed to any individual, 
support, being attributable rather to the expansion of latent 
energies. Grateful posterity has, however, placed it to his 
credit, and even veiled with it his imperfections. Once more 
the ancient mythology found a champion in the person of 
the Emperior Julian, whose great talents cannot be denied. 
His attempts to subvert Christianity were subtile and clever : 

* Tho period between Diocletian and Constantine was a species of inter- 
regnum; Constantius and Galerius, Maxentius and Severus, succeeded aa 
Augu&ti. — Transl. note. 



THREE PEEIODS OF LITERATURE. 135 

warned of the futility of resorting to open violence by the 
experience of Diocletian, though similar violence was then 
scarcely practicable, he attacked it with the weapons of ridicule- 
but the expedient on which he most relied was that of separa, 
ting Christianity from all high intellectual culture, and thus 
to injure it by rendering it contemptible. The ingenuity of 
his devices, though not attended with success, has obtained 
the applause of many who, in modern times, have sympa- 
thised with his design. But when his panegyrists take into 
account the scientific superstition to which Julian had de- 
voted his mind and heart, they can scarcely fail to feel some 
scruples respecting the justice of their encomiums. 

When Christianity had come out victorious from this last 
attack on its existence, it had yet to weather the opposition 
of the philosophers, who, on their expulsion by Justinian, 
took refuge in Persia, and were thence scattered abroad. 
Thus ended the struggle of Christianity with Paganism, 
under the Emperor we have just named. 

I have hitherto attempted to sketch three distinct periods 
of literature. Of these the first two, namely, the flourishing 
era of Grecian genius, from Solon to the Ptolemies, and the 
best and strictly classic period of Rome, from Cicero to 
Trajan, were described with comparative facility ; it being 
almost sufficient in their case, to note individual writers in 
due sequence, in order to exhibit the spirit of the whole, and 
depict its gradual growth, the brilliant splendour of its zenith, 
and the gloom of its decline and extinction. 

Circumstances were materially different in the third period, 
from Hadrian to Justinian. Mere form and representation, 
the lustre of individual names, were not of so great moment 
here as the general development of philosophy. To exhibit 
the great conflict of the world of antiquity with the newly 
formed Christian Era : to pourtray the influences of a creed 
transplanted from Asia to Europe, and the ferment produced 
in Greece, as well as Borne, by varied oriental bigotry: this 
is a theme requiring infinitely more pains to do it justice. 
In depicting this contest of oriental systems, and Asiatic 
tradition generally, it was necessary to treat of nations 
whose literature has been entirely lost, as the Egyptians : 
of some who like the Persians, have bequeathed to us only 
the imperfect compilations of later times ; of others, as 



136 THE PEEIOD FROM HADRIAN TO JUSTINIAN. 

The Hebrews, who convey to us an excellent idea of their 
literature and poetry, by means of their sacred writings, but 
which we are wont to view from a totally different stand- 
point, for which the mere literary and poetical view is not 
always needed ; the Indians again, of whose copious literary 
treasures we are all but ignorant, save through suspicious 
channels of information. 

But it is no less important that we should be in possession 
of the general tenor of the thoughts and conceptions of the 
numerous Pagan and Christian authors who flourished in 
Greece and Rome during the period from Hadrian to Justi- 
nian. In sketching this era, if the characteristic features of 
each individual writer were delineated with elaborate minute- 
ness, there would be great danger of losing sight of the main 
point under consideration. A 11 kinds of literary information 
and facilities were much increased in this age : peril aps at 
no time was the spirit of enquiry so active, at no time was 
truth more gloriously vindicated, or on the other hand more 
errors and enthusiastic pretensions more rife. In every 
species of learning and talent the age was truly rich : golden 
harvests of tradition and invention were never so abundant. 
Our praise, however, cannot be extended to any peculiar pro- 
minence of individual genius, or general excellence of style. 
In poetry, to which all other branches of literature were but 
secondary, nothing new or truly great appeared. There were 
orators of distinction, for this faculty was never lost among 
the Greeks. The highest praise which can be awarded to 
the best orators of this age is, that they recalled the palmiest 
days of antiquity, and could stand a comparison with their 
predecessors, even in reference to the language which still 
retained its living bloom. To the great Christian orators, 
such as Basil and Chrysostom, this additional encomium is 
justly due — they did not, like the Sophists, abuse the art of 
rhetoric, in the promotion of error or frivolous pursuits, but 
employed it for the development of the holiest truths, and of 
the purest morality. In the most distinguished authors of 
this period, then, both critics and philosophers, the subject 
and not the style claims our greatest attention. This remark 
is applicable to Christian writers, w T ho, in their zealous en- 
deavours to serve the general cause, were unambitious of 
the graces of language, no less than to the Pagan. How 



THE EETGN Or ANTONINUS, 137 

can Plotinus, Porphyry, or even Longinus be named as 
authors by the side of Plato ? And yet the thinking of these 
men exercised considerable influence over their own age, and 
has continued to influence posterity. The distinctions of in- 
dividual mind may be said to have been engulphed in the 
whirlpool of universal excitement. There are literary epochs 
when the genius of an individual attains to the highest pitch 
of perfection both in- style and art, and towers above his con- 
temporaries ; there are others when the individual force of 
thought merges in the concentrated whole, and is lost in the 
development of general opinion. In political history similar 
phenomena are visible : whilst, at one period, nations form 
themselves and emerge from the midst of chaotic confusion, 
— at another, there is a regular, organic action, by means 
of which systems and states progress towards perfection. 
The history of literature, like the history of the world, 
if it would do justice to the human mind, must take cog- 
nizance of both kinds of action — spasmodic, creative state 
of chaotic fermentation, and steady, unimpassioned develop- 
ment. 

On proceeding to analyse the mental powers that were en- 
listed in the all-important contest, both sicles appear nearly 
equally matched, as far as talents and knowledge are con- 
cerned, with occasional alternations : so that the issue of the 
strife in reality rests on the intrinsic and inherent virtue of 
the cause in dispute, and must not be ascribed to the re- 
spective merits or defects of the individuals engaged. 
Among the Greeks paganism was, at first, in the ascendant ; 
Grecian literature was still surrounded by a halo of setting 
glory in the reign of Antoninus, when the champions of Chris- 
tianity scarcely ventured to come forward with apologies for 
their persecuted faith and their calumniated lives. The 
Greeks soon manifested their superiority of intellect, more 
particularly when espousing the cause of the new creed : 
they gave Christianity her first thinkers and learned de- 
fenders, her great orators and complete historians. Talent 
and learning were*gradually arrayed on her side. Yet, even 
after Christianity had established for itself a recognized posi- 
tion in the State, there were still men of eminence on the 
side of Paganism, and those philosophers who, to the last, 
combated Christianity, and made a final effort to support 



138 ST. AUGUSTUS". 

the sinking creed of their fathers, were men distinguished 
for their genius and erudition. 

The ease was different in the Eoman West ; here a hand- 
ful of Pagans were opposed to collective Latin literature 
ranged under the banners of Christianity. In profundity of 
acquirements it cannot, for a moment, compare with its 
sister-literature of Greece. The Romans never displayed 
any genius for the higher branches of philosophy and meta- 
physics : their language was no congenial soil for the culti- 
vation of these products. This is as perceptible in St. Au- 
gustin* as in Cicero ; neither was it until the Latin language 
had ceased to be a living tongue that it could be brought by 
main force to express, even imperfectly, those subtle distinc- 
tions and nicer shades of thought which the Greeks, who 
were by birth Dialecticians and Metaphysicians, easily com- 
passed. The grandest and most characteristic work of later 
Roman literature — in which St. Augustin has endeavoured 
to embody Christian views of human destiny and society, in 
juxta-position to Plato's Republic and his social Ideal — is 
not so much a metaphysical as a moral treatise ; though a 
critical review of older systems, it is such as we should be 
disposed to term a theory of mankind, a philosophy of history. 
In the period of Christian history likewise, the peculiar 
practical spirit and strong common-sense of the Romans ever 
presented a marked contrast to the subtility and artistic skill 
of the Greeks. These Roman characteristics eventually 
produced a sound legislative system and meuhod which, 
coupled with the free spirit of the Germanic races who con- 
quered and re-created Rome, largely contributed to prepare 
for modern Europe a happy development and an intellectual 
elevation. 

Christianity, as received by the Germans from the Romans, 
on the one hand, and the free spirit of the North, on the 
other, were the two elements out of which a new world pro- 
ceeded, and hence mediaeval literature was generally twofold, 

* Of St. Augustin Niebuhr says, "his is a truly philosophic mind, as 
strongly actuated by a yearning after truth as any of the great philoso- 
phers ; his language also is very noble. He is by no means witty, like St. 
Jerome ; but he is eloquent, and in many places admirable." St. Augustin 
himself says that the Punic language was his mother tongue. — Transl. 
note. 



MEDIEVAL LITEEATUEE. 139 

a Christian Latinity, common to the whole of Europe and 
intended merely as a vehicle for the preservation arid ex- 
tension of knowledge, — and an especial, more poetical litera- 
ture, in the idiomatic tougue of each respective nation. 
Hence the efforts of the early patrons of mental culture in 
modern Europe, such as Theodoric the Goth, Charlemagne, 
and Alfred, were necessarily directed to two objects; it 
being requisite, in the first place, to maintain inviolate the 
inheritance of all the information handed down in Latin, and, 
then, to educate the people by means of their native lan- 
guage, to preserve the poetic memorials of the past ; to give 
the language a more precise form, and by a more varied use of 
it, to make it available for philosophic and scientific purposes. 
The poetic or creative, national portion of mediaeval literature 
presents the greater attractions, yet we must not wholly 
pass over the later element therein, for it is the link con- 
necting modern Europe with antiquity. 

Let us endeavour to present under another aspect the 
inner connection and points of junction of the principal 
spheres included in our view of human development and 
genius. The Greeks continue to be our models in the arts 
and sciences ; the Romans, on the other hand, though they 
only form the transition between the old and the new world, 
served the middle ages as an immediate and direct source of 
information, until the higher and sometime hidden, living 
spring gushed forth. The Northern feeling, embodied in 
legendary story, was the root on which the new genius of 
the Western nations was engrafted. Christianity, not only 
in itself, but in its written code, the Gospel, was the light 
from above that illumined the other elements, purified and 
moulded them for the furtherance of art and science. The 
New Testament is noticeable here the rather that its lite- 
rary influence was incalculably great, both as regards the 
middle ages and even in later times, in point of form and 
contents, on morals and philosophy, on the liberal arts and 
poetry. The Divine light, shining through the transparent 
simplicity of the Gospel, fused the artistic faculty of the 
Greeks, the practical wisdom of the Romans, and the pro- 
phetic depth of the Hebrews, into a complete whole for the 
advancement of science, and the conduct of life. The Bible, 
on whose organic structure wje commented above as far as 



140 THE NEW TESTAMENT. 

concerned the Hebrew portion, becomes a complete and con- 
nective volume by the addition of the New Testament. It 
is indeed a perfect Book, consisting, in the Old Covenant of 
forty and five spiritual members or organs : and in the New, 
of seven and twenty living members and spiritual organs. 
As in the old Testament, so in the new, certain portions 
relate to the eternal Word of life, and others to the com- 
munity of the faithful or the Church. The mystery of that 
Love by means of which the living Word was manifested 
personally on earth, in due time, in the midst of the world's 
development, is recorded in the Gospel in a fourfold manner. 
So, in the old Covenant, the number of the Cherubim over 
the Ark that guarded the mystery of the Divine promise 
was also four ; four living streams gushed forth from one 
source in Paradise : and this seems to be the essential form 
of the manifestation of Divine excellence and goodness in 
visible embodiment. So that we cannot help being as- 
tonished at those persons who cannot understand this most 
natural and intelligible fourfoldness of the Grospel ; or who 
find a difficulty in it which they treat as a curious problem, 
and attempt to solve it by some ingenious hypothesis. That 
which is found distinct and separate in Moses and the 
Psalms, namely, revelation, allegory, inspiration, and the 
living, all-pervading feeling of the Word, — is blended in 
the Gospel, which delineates the life of the Incarnate Word. 
The other books of the New Testament directly refer to 
the Christian community and Church ; in regular series 
describing its formation and constitution in the Acts 
of the Apostles, and then delineating its agency and life in 
a doctrine full of love and in a hope full of faith in a cycle 
of various Epistles, and presenting the destinies of the 
Church for all coming time and future development in the 
Apocalypse. Subjects which in the Prophets of the Old 
Testament are not treated of separately, the doctrine of sal- 
vation by the Spirit, and admonitory visions, clear rules of 
life, and veiled prophecy are distinctly unfolded in the 
Epistles and the Apocalypse : so that the writings of the Old 
and New Testaments correspond in all poiuts, and are mu- 
tually supplementary. The Prophet of the New Covenant 
gives the complete finish to the entire Divine work, and this 
mysterious book of the future forms with Genesis or the 



THE NEW TESTAMENT. 141 

revelation of the beginning, the key for the sacred arch of 
Scripture, in the circumference of which the fourfold Gos- 
pels form the bright centre of the whole, of which the begin- 
ning and the end contain the key to the deeper meaning; so 
that to whomsoever these two manuals of the first and last 
books of the Bible are still strange or quite obscure, he 
ought to suspend his judgment and be silent in acknowledged 
ignorance, when the question relates to the scientific ex- 
planation of revelation in its full extent. The form and 
style of the New Testament is incomparably simpler than 
that of the Old, and this very transparent simplicity, truth- 
fully reflecting the Divine attributes, which has made it the 
Book of the people (as in a certain sense we may call it) has 
also served to impress its own indelible stamp upon the 
whole train of the subsequent development of the human 
mind and the teaching of modern Christianity. The spirit 
of Allegory is no less prevalent in the New than in the Old 
covenant ; especially that species of it called Parable, which 
in the former is more extensively applied, and may be said to 
constitute the childlike teaching of the Gospel. If Aphorism 
is the natural form of every Divine revelation in the plain 
expression of the eternal Word, as a written Fiat, Parable is 
the human, figurative investiture of Divine maxims. The 
Spirit of eternal truth is not manifested in the artistic alle- 
gories of poets, or in the profound secresy of natural sym- 
bols : but clad in the popular allegory of real life and its 
daily phenomena, as in the simple garb of childhood. Para- 
ble, in its simplest form, as adopted and applied in the Bible, 
has also a peculiar Divine impress, which it is impossible to 
copy or counterfeit. It is more particularly in the childlike 
similes and allegories of Parable that the Gospel has become 
a type "for all later legends, whilst the latter, in their turn, 
have been the general storehouse from which Christian art 
and poetry have been ultimately supplied. Care must, 
however, be taken not to confound the inner sublimity of 
Divine intelligence, as manifested in the New Testament, 
with external simplicity of representation. Just as the lamb 
of patient Love is hidden beneath the lion-like anger of 
old-Testament denunciation, in like manner the writings of 
the new Covenant display the eagle glance of penetration 
veiled by meek and lamb-like mildness. And here, on this 



142 THE ROMANCE LANGUAGES. 

stand-point, we meet with the third and highest mode of 
interpreting and understanding Holy "Writ (as mentioned 
above) founded on the mysterious communion of the soul 
with Grod, when the eternal Word renders it intelligible in 
his own light. For all the doctrine and knowledge of the 
living Word may be understood and explained according to 
the three-fold relation of the Word — the historical, eternal, 
and internal. But in the highest form of intelligence the 
Word is no longer conceived of as divided and limited in the 
human understanding, but entire and living he operates on 
those who know him as the Word of Life and bring forth 
the fruits of life. Then the manifold meaning of Scripture 
which is required in the first stages of [Divine] knowledge, 
vanishes, and when the end is found, it is resolved into the 
simple sense of the soul united to Grod, according to the full 
light of the living Word, which is described in the Scrip- 
tures as the everlasting unwritten Gospel, by which that 
which remains concealed must be explained, when the time 
shall arrive. 

Let us now resume the thread of history, and proceed to 
examine the condition of intellectual culture in the later 
times of Rome. 

The final destinies of the Latin tongue, still a living idiom, 
which exerted so great an influence on the relations and 
peculiar character of its affiliated Romance* languages, and 
likewise on the poetical spirit of the middle ages, were as 
follows. The translation of the Bible into Latin created an 
epoch altogether new in that language, constituting a late 
and, in some instances, a rich aftercrop of Latin literature. 
On the extinction of the old literature, of which few orna- 
ments survived the reign of Trajan, there was an almost uni- 
versal literary dearth, until the period when Christian 
writers made their appearance, in the fourth and fifth cen- 
turies ; scarcely any other works were composed in the 
Roman tongue during that period, and those of little moment. 

* This appellation includes Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, &c. 
In a more limited philological sense it applies only to one or two dialects, 
such as the Rhaetian, the Rumonic, the Wlachic,being-a mixture, in nearly 
equal parrs, of Sclavonian and Latin. The people who now adopt these 
dialects still call themselves Romans, or, in their idiom, Rumanje. — 
Transl. note . 



THE LATIN LANGUAGE. 143 

There is no good authority for inducing us to believe that 
time or accident has robbed us of any that then existed. 
The Greeks were once more predominant. If, by the side 
of Christian writers, a sprinkling of Pagan historians and 
poets made a creditable appearance in the centuries named, 
it is entirely attributable to a spirit of rival emulation, or to 
the new impetus with which the promulgators and sup- 
porters of Christianity quickened the language and its 
literature. Thus it was once more an external foreign im- 
pulse that roused the Roman mind from lethargic apathy to 
efforts of linguistic perfection. Considered purely on its 
own merits, this imitation of Oriental expression, of which 
it ever after bore obvious traces, might have been favourable 
to the Latiu tongue, if not more advantageous than copying 
Greek poetry and rhetoric, as it had done in classic days, 
and which was ever attended with more or less incon- 
venience. The artificial intricacy of prose, which had almost 
become natural to the Greeks, was at all times foreign to 
Roman genius. Some few leading writers succeeded in 
overcoming the difficulty, and attained to a noble simplicity 
of style ; but the great majority lost themselves in the 
mazes of construction, in their endeavours to imitate Greek 
models. Roman poets, too, present a hard and obscure 
appearance, on assuming the ornate charms of the Grecian 
muse. The metres they adopted from Greek standards 
never became popular, that is, they never really lived in the 
hearts and memories of the people, with the exception of 
hexameter or elegiac verse. This was especially the case 
with the more artificial metres, and it may have been one 
reason why Horace, who in our eyes possesses such ir- 
resistible graces, was not in high repute among his country- 
men of the succeeding generation, nay, was scarcely remem- 
bered by them. The Roman language was originally en- 
riched with a few patriotic epics and was then cast wholly in 
the mould of jurisprudence ; it thus gradually unfolded an 
exclusively practical character, suited alike to the stern 
realities of war and the political institutions of peaceful times. 
But this prosaic development prospered at the expense of 
the bolder nights of fancy: poetry could not forego her 
old simplicity, even in the position of words and structure of 
periods, without injury. Both in imagery and style, an ap- 



144 LATIN" LITERATURE. 

proximation to Oriental modes of expression could not be 
otherwise than beneficial to the language generally, — but 
for the hurtful interference of other circumstances — espe- 
cially when sublimity, as in the sacred books of the Hebrews, 
is throughout associated with ingenuous simplicity. For the 
purpose of illustrating this remark, it is only necessary to 
refer to the Latin translation of the Psalms, denominated 
the Italic. I appeal to the feelings and judgment of all who 
are able to appreciate the ancient sublimity and energy of 
the Roman tongue, do they not here recognize all the 
features that remind them of both these qualities ? I question 
if any Latin imitations of Greek poetry were, at any period, 
so eminently successful or breathed such enthusiastic inspi- 
ration, as this translation of sacred Hebrew Song, the 
phraseology and arrangement of which are alike admirable. 
Even in regard to melody, the Latin tongue has here dis- 
played such distinguished excellence that all great masters 
of harmony have, down to our own times, adopted it in pre- 
ference to Italian, its own daughter, for the loftier branches 
of music. The cause of the corruption and decay of the 
Latin language before the irruption of the Germanic races 
was owing to the gradual decline of metropolitan Rome, and 
the superior influence of the provinces. Rome, which 
though it had lost the sceptre of worldly power, continued 
to hold the keys of ecclesiastical supremacy, ceased more 
and more to be the arbiter of taste and language ; especially 
after Constantine had transferred the seat of empire to By- 
zantium. In the writers who flourished under the first 
Caesars, and who were natives of Spain, many have thought 
they could discern certain traits of peculiarity : as though 
there had been a consciousness that Latin was not their 
mother tongue. The antitheses of Seneca, and the turgid 
diction of Lucan, have been compared with the prevalence of 
a similar taste on the part of certain modern Spanish writers. 
This must necessarily have been still more conspicuous in 
the case of early Christian Latin authors, who were, for the 
most part, Africans, and at a later period Gauls. Doubtless 
many varieties of E/oman dialects existed, at an early period, 
in the various provinces of that vast empire. In Italy 
itself the rural population probably used an idiom differing 
widely from the written language or from the more re- 



ST. JEROME. 145 

fined speech of the capital. To this idiom, the so-called 
lingua rustica, Italian critics are wont to trace the origin of 
their Own tongue, rather than to any introduction of foreign 
elements occasioned by Germanic intermixture. Home, 
having been not only the chief but perhaps the sole abode of 
purity of language, probably retained this distinction to the 
last, though in an inferior degree. Of Christian Latin 
authors, St. Jerome, though not born yet educated in Home, 
is the first in point of masculine eloquence. Whilst it 
cannot be expected that in the fifth century the language 
should compete with the polished elegance of Cicero, there is 
yet much in St. Jerome's style calculated to remind one of 
the old Roman vigour and classic spirit. "When the Goths, 
in considerable numbers, settled in Italy and particularly in 
Rome, the language, spoken as it was by so many to whom 
it was a foreign tongue, underwent great changes. Though 
no blending with foreign idioms had actually taken place, 
the alteration was so complete that the native Roman had to 
take great care, if he would express himself with that nice 
precision and purity to which he had been accustomed. This 
characteristic is clearly discernible in the writers who lived 
in the time of Theodoric the Goth, the last that can be in- 
cluded within the pale of antiquity, and who may be said to 
have formed the transition to the middle ages. 

It must be borne in mind that, like every great change, 
the introduction of Christianity, notwithstanding the bene- 
ficial results that ensued, of necessity caused a certain inter- 
ruption to the progress of art and literature. Less in the 
former of these two : especially in architecture. The re- 
mains of what was excellent in this art were at once applied 
to the purposes of the new faith, due care being, of course, 
taken to remodel and adapt it to the exigencies and ideas of 
Christian worship. As in former times the Greeks had 
availed themselves of the architectural elements they found 
in use among Egyptian and other nations, and according to 
their own ideas of beauty constructed a style eminently their 
own, in like manner the beautiful forms of Grecian artistic 
genius now served as a basis on which was raised a new and 
peculiarly Christian style. The date of such architectural 
composition is proved by St. Sophia's, Constantinople, built 



14G CHRISTIANITY IN DELATION TO THE FINE ARTS. 

in the time of Justinian by Anthemius.* who, in addition to 
being a great architect, was also well versed in the theory oi' 
his art and composed a treatise upon it. It has frequently 
been remarked that the habit of calling old-German mediaeval 
architecture by the general name of Gothic, without the 
slightest distinction of epochs, is extremely inaccurate : yet 
it cannot be denied that the Groths left some memorials of 
their peculiar style of architecture in Italy during their 
occupation of that country. By means equally facile and 
direct, ancient - music, especially its noblest and simplest 
kinds, was transferred to the purposes of Christian psal- 
mody, which subsequently ascended from the organ in 
peals of exquisite melody. But sculpture and the pic- 
torial arts must have sustained a greater check. Images of 
the gods regarded purely as such, and not as independent 
works of art, were naturally looked upon as objects of aver- 
sion by the early Christians. Representations of subjects and 
scenes, endeared to the associations of the Christian, may 
be supposed, for some time, to have been prized simply as 
memorials and reminiscences precious to his faith, without 
any view to artistic excellence. To poetic perfection the 
interruption must have been far greater. It is true that 
some few bards continued to treat mythology in a poetic 
manner. But these subjects having, by repeated attempts, 
been divested of their novelty, and the old mythology being 
extinct, nothing more could be expected in this department 
of the Muse, than tame imitations or feeble echoes of the 
older transcendent models. Attempts were made to create 
a Christian poetry and successfully so, in the lyric kind, 
songs, and hymns, which, being bursts of devotional feeling, 
found a type for their expression in the minstrelsy of Hebrew 
lays. Attempts on a larger scale, however, to commemo- 
rate Christianity were as unsuccessful as similar efforts 
made in later times ;f since the form of it from the antique 
did not suit this purpose, and remained a lifeless abstraction, 

* Trallianus Anthemius, celebrated in the departments of sculpture, 
architecture, and mechanics. Some of his fragmentary ideas on mecha- 
nics were published by Dupuy (1777) in French and Greek — Transl. note, 

f Of this assertion Klopstock's " Messiade" is an obvious proof. — 
Transl. note. 



GOTHIC POETEY. 147 

wearing the metrical garb, but without the life or spirit of 
Poetry. 

The poetic spirit of modern Europe was derived from its 
northern source of development. Whenever the Romans 
make mention of the Germanic races, they do not omit to 
allude to their fondness for poetry. We must for ever 
lament the loss of those songs in which the deeds of Her- 
mann* were celebrated, as also of those prophetic strains, by- 
means of which Velleda roused the Batavians to a final 
struggle for their liberties. Though the substance of German 
mythology could not possibly have enjoyed permanence on 
the introduction of Christianity ; yet its poetic essence and 
creative energy were retained in historic epics. And when, 
in the lapse of time, these were softened by the diffusion of 
refinement, ennobled and embellished by the spirit of love and 
of devotion, chivalrous poetry started into being; this form was 
altogether peculiar to modern Christian Europe, and in its 
effects it materially influenced the national genius of the 
noblest races. 

Of the Germanic nations that had embraced Christianity, 
the Goths were the first to produce these historical epics. 
They were chanted in the tent of Attila ; they constituted 
apart of Theodoric's court-festivities : even the Latin writers 
of the age refer to them, and, in prosaic form, cite much of 
the poetic legendary history of bygone times that they have 
copied from them. The praises of the royal lineage of the 
Amali, and, in the sequel, of Attila, Theodoric, and Charle- 
magne, were celebrated in similar strains. 

The Bible of Ulphilas, one of the extant memorials of the 
Gothic, exhibits a style extremely regular and cultivated for 
that period. It was a translation originally intended for the 
Goths dwelling on the shores of the Danube. Certain re- 
cords inform us that the Goths used precisely the same 
idiom when in Italy ; it is reported of Theodoric, that he 
encouraged education and literature equally in Gothic and 

* Sometimes called Arminius, but whose name was probably Armin. 
The spot where this great soldier routed Quintilius Varus, the able Roman 
general, but who had made himself notorious for his shameful rapacity, 
cannot now be ascertained. Velleius, who served in this war, describes it 
it graphic colours. Horace addresses Epistle 1. 15, to Numonius Vala who 
commanded one of the alee. — TransL note. 



148 GERMAN BARDIC SONGS. 

Latin. This, then, assumes a supply of educational and in- 
structive works in Gothic, such as, subsequently, in Alfred's 
day, existed in the Saxon tongue. Judging from the manner 
in which Jornandes, the Latin historian, quotes Gothic epics, 
it might reasonably be argued that he, or at least the author 
from whom he copies, is not merely quoting from memory, 
but that they were actually in a written form, at the court 
of Theodoric. This may be presumed the more readily that 
the glories of the regal line of the Amali, and all the heroes 
descended from this stock, seem to have been the especial 
themes celebrated in these lays. Simultaneously with the 
extinction of the Goths, their language, too, disappeared, 
together with nearly all its memorials, which, according to 
some accounts, were long stored up in Spain ; in that country 
the Goths maintained their power longest, and the haughty 
kings of Castille were wont to boast that Gothic blood flowed 
in their veins. On the other hand, there are contrary re- 
ports, to the effect that numerous memorials of the Gothic 
period were purposely destroyed in Italy, since they proved 
the Longobardic or Gothic descent of certain families who 
preferred tracing their genealogies to fictitious Eoman des- 
cent, rather than to their own genuine nobility. 

The German Bardic songs, which were collected and regis- 
tered by Charlemagne's direction, considering the circum- 
stances of the time, probably resembled the historic epics 
of the migration of nations in the Christian era. Heroic 
poems, of a much later date, are extant in German : they 
sing of Attila, Odoacer, Theodore, the line of the Amali, as 
well as other Frankish and Burgundian warriors who are 
mixed up with that time by legend or authentic history. 
Hence it may be inferred that, if not in form, in contents at 
least, extracts partly from Gothic epics, partly from those 
songs which Charlemagne had caused to be collected — as 
Solon did in the case of the H omeric lays — are yet embodied 
in the Nibelungen-lied. 

Nobody adequately familiar with the spirit of that age 
could, for a moment, suppose that the songs thus collected 
by Charles were in praise of Hermann or Odin, or that they 
referred at all to the pagan mythology of ancient Germany. 
An additional proof may be adduced, that completely decides 
the question. The form of oath, yet extant, taken by the 



GEKMAN MYTHOLOGY. 149 

Saxons on abjuring Paganism, ran thus : — " I renounce the 
Devil and all his works and words, Thunaer (i.e. the thunder- 
god or Thor), "Wodan, and Saxon Odin, and all such sorcer- 
ers their familiars." This formula has been attributed to 
the eighth century, somewhat before the time of Charle- 
magne, but this is of no essential moment in regard to the 
habits of that period. Even in his reign, Odin was still 
worshipped in Saxony, and on the Hartz mountains prayers 
were offered up to him for success -against the arms of Char- 
lemagne. Under these circumstances, is it at all probable 
that Charles would have promoted or even sanctioned a col- 
lection of heathen lays dedicated to Hermann or Odin ? The 
above oath determines yet other historical points, namely, 
the non-identity of Odin with Wodan, and the fact that 
Saxony was generally regarded as his father-land. The 
legendary traditions of Scandinavia, whilst they would fain 
appropriate him exclusively to themselves, admit that Odin 
was a Saxon king who came to Sweden, built Sigtund, and 
there established his dominion. The testimony of the Anglo- 
Saxons concurs with this allegation, whose Kings, — some, 
as Alfred, in unbroken lineage— descended from Odin. This 
Anglo-Saxon genealogy appears to be established on so his- 
torical a basis, and confirmed, in so remarkable a manner, by 
two distinct and independent branches of evidence that I am 
inclined to adopt the opinion of those who regard Odin as 
an historical personage of the third century. About this 
period the Eomans, without sufficient resources for aggres- 
sive measures, and, as yet, unmenaced in this part of Grer- 
many, were, in a great degree, if not entirely, ignorant of 
occurrences in the northern interior of the country. This 
may serve to explain why Odin, whose glory eclipsed the 
lustre of every other name throughout Saxony and the 
North, was unknown to the Romans. Our mental estimate 
of Odin must, accordingly, be that of a victorious prince, a 
warrior-poet, whose soothsaying-songs effected many changes 
in the prevalent mythology, in which he was likewise assisted 
by seers, bards, and priests, selected for the purpose : in a 
word, of a soldier-poet, the prowess of whose sword was 
matched only by the fame of his magic arts, that eventu- 
ally combined to procure for him the honours of deification. 
The tradition stating that Odin came from Asia to Saxony 



150 TRADITIONS EESPECTING ODIN". 

is a Scandinavian myth, by no means suitable to the circum- 
stances and relations of the historic Odin. With him, 
neither the wars of Pompey with the races of the Caucasus, 
nor the ruin and devastation communicated to the northern 
allies of Mithridates by his fall, can have any connection : 
inasmuch as the earliest notices of Germany in classical 
authors contain not a single trace referable to the historic 
Odin, or his new mythology. Scandinavian compilers were 
compelled to admit the existence of more than one Odin, and 
to endeavour to amalgamate the legends concerning the 
younger with those of the older, if they would, in some mea- 
sure, reconcile their account with historical narrative. Of 
this older Odin I have only succeeded in discovering a single 
trace in ancient writers : it is, however, a remarkable one. 
Tacitus alludes to a tradition, according to which Ulysses, in 
the course of his travels, visited Germany, and there founded 
the city of Asciburgum. In matters like these, the ancients 
entertained views such as we can, with difficulty, compre- 
hend. Their intention was to embody the general con- 
ception of a deity or hero. Thus, they were in the habit 
of styling the war-god of every nation, Mars; the deity 
presiding over science and art, Mercury, not paying much 
heed to local distinctions. Ulysses personified the com- 
mon notion of a wandering hero : to him, or to his pro- 
geny, adventures and colonies in the far West continued to 
be ascribed. Wherever they met with legends among West- 
ern or Northern races respecting heroes that had immigrated 
from the East or South, they had prompt recourse to 
Hercules or Ulysses, either of whom they connected with 
the national story. The reminiscences of their origin and 
early emigration from Asia were not wholly extinct in the 
northern nations. Some such legend, then, referring to the 
visit of some hero from a distant land to Germany was, no 
doubt, rife in the time of Tacitus : the name, too, of this 
Odin was likely to suggest to the Romans the Greek appel- 
lation of Ulysses (Odysseus), and thus assist the coincidence. 
The import of the confused mass of accounts respecting the 
younger, and, doubtless, historic Odin, may be summed up 
in the following probable particulars : — his home had, origi- 
nally, been among some of the Gothic tribes, w T hose habita- 
tions extended to the frontiers of Asia : he lived at a period, 



THE HTJNIC ALPHABET. 151 

when Christianity began to be diffused throughout a portion 
of the northern regions, with which, however, all were not 
equally satisfied, any more than with the emigrations that 
had set in, in the direction of Italy, and which must have 
had an effect on the national manners. At once a warlike 
prince, a minstrel, seer, and priest, Odin had resolved on 
reviving the mythology and mysteries of the north, and 
having, in pursuance of this design, founded a kingdom in 
old Saxony, had ended his heroic career in Sweden. 

Historic legends and epics were, in all likelihood, not re- 
corded in writing by the Gothic and Germanic races— until 
they were expressly directed to do so — being both contrary 
to the spirit of the lays and the usage of the minstrels ; even 
long after the Germans had had continuous intercourse with 
the Romans, and could have experienced little difficulty in 
obtaining from them letters and the implements of writing. 
The case was different with those prophetic lays, which, in 
considerable numbers, were founded on the mythology of 
Odin. For the transmission of these there is not much 
doubt of the adoption of written characters. I have else- 
where taken an opportunity of expressing my opinion that 
the Germanic races were not wholly unacquainted with 
letters, even before they acquired their manifold uses from 
the Greeks and Romans. This has been denied ; I will, 
therefore, proceed to state the grounds on which I have 
come to the conclusion that writing, though adopted in a 
very limited degree, was, nevertheless, not unknown to these 
nations. The Runic alphabet, as it has come down to us, is 
indeed a framework of later times ; several letters are purely 
Roman. Yet others are altogether different, and cannot, by 
the most violent means, be deduced from that source. The 
peculiar arrangement and names of the letters, and the general 
incompleteness of the alphabet, which originally had only 
sixteen letters, are so many positive proofs of their being in- 
dependent and underived. In the much more perfect alpha- 
bet subsequently received from the Greeks and Romans by 
the Goths and Anglo-Saxons, traces of the old Runic are 
still discernible. That this was common to most, if not all, 
of the Germanic races, is evinced by Runic inscriptions dis- 
covered in the remotest regions inhabited by Goths or other 
Germans. How then could these inscriptions have found 



152 CONNECTION OP THE PHOENICIANS WITH THE BALTIC. 

their way to Germany, and the North, except through the 
Greeks and Romans ? But if there is a fixed resolve to ac- 
count for them by some other channel, a not altogether 
improbable one is at hand. The Phoenicians, from whom so 
many other nations obtained their alphabet — modified accord- 
ing to the kind of speech and writing — monopolized the Bal- 
tic trade for a considerable period of time. It is a matter of 
history that many of the Germans inhabiting the shores of the 
Baltic were much more civilized than the warlike frontier- 
hordes of the Rhine. The Baltic strand witnessed the secret 
worship of Hertha,* described by Tacitus as a species ot 
Mystery. Now it is extremely probable that Runic charac- 
ters were especially adopted by similar priestly societies. It 
cannot be doubted that, from the earliest times, they were 
subservient to magic practices. Rods selected and conse- 
crated for the purpose composed the words that accompanied 
the song of divination or incantation, the principal letters 
being repeated in regular form, and not without a certain 
significancy.f This custom can clearly be traced in the form 
of Runic inscriptions still extant. Imagine, then, the seer, 
or the priest, whilst the mysterious incantation is being 
chanted, laying these Runic rods before the Acolyte, who 
studied to solve the enigma by means of the magic staves, 
which we yet adopt as a grammatical term .J Accustomed 
as we are to the lucid precision of historical civilization, 
it is difficult to transport ourselves to the obscurity of 
the remote past : hence, those ages are commonly asso- 
ciated with much that is fanciful and erroneous, whilst the 

* The goddess of the Earth in ancient German mythology, who made 
an annual solemn procession in her consecrated Wain, attended by priests. 
—Transt. note. 

f The staves, previously marked, were thrown on a white cloth, according 
to the graphic account of Tacitus : — Germ. Cap. X. In Ul phi las, Buna 
means secret ; hence the word raunen (to whisper), and Alraune (witch, 
sorceress). Of the magic uses of these Runes among the heathen North- 
men, Rhahanus Maurus speaks in his book, " De invent, linguarum, ap. 
Goldasti Script, rer. Alleman. ed. Senckenberg. torn. II. p. 69. Litteras 
quippe, quibus utuntur Marcomanni quos nos Nordmannos vocamus, a 
quibus originem, qui Theodiscam loquuntur linguam, trahunt, cum quibus 
cannina sua, ineantationesque ac divinutiones siguificare proourant, qui 
adhuc paganis ritibusinvolvuntur." 

Jit will be remembered that the German word for letters is Buchstaben 
or book-staves. — Trunsl. note 



REMAINS OF PAGANISM IN GERMANY. 153 

truth of records, really attaching thereto, is doubted aud de- 
nied. 

"When Saxony submitted to the yoke of Charlemagne, the 
mythology of Odin was extirpated. Many memorials and 
traces of its presence, however, survived until latei times. 
The country people could not give up their Spring merry- 
makings ; this innocent festival of nature, so delightful in 
all religions, was transferred to the beginning of May, a 
period at which Nature renews her loveliness under our 
northern skies : many similar customs w^ere incorporated in 
our Christian Whitsuntide. Down to the present time, in 
some districts of North-Grermany, large fires blaze at night 
on the mountain-tops, about the time when the days are 
longest : a relic of bygone ages, whose meaning, doubtless, 
significant to Paganism, as in so many other instances, has 
been irrecoverably lost. Hills and forests, the favourite 
haunts of heathen rites, in an especial manner long harboured 
an infinite variety of kindred reminiscences. For many 
Christian centuries, trees of immense size, and great age, or 
remarkable for any other distinguishing qualities, particu- 
larly oaks, were held sacred : no less so the ash, possessing 
magnetic properties, and declared in the Edda's legend of 
creation to be the origin of all nature. In later poetry, too, 
fragrant limes continued to be celebrated as enchanted trees, 
whilst, even now, the willow is connected with superstitions 
abounding in the same districts, As might have been ex- 
pected, such memorials of the olden mythology as still lin- 
gered in the midst of the peasantry, after its general extir- 
pation, assumed the form of mere superstition, degenerating 
more and more into deformity. The seers and witches of 
the past dwindled down into fortune-tellers-, and instead of 
Odin's Walhalla, graced by heroes and gods, the unearthly 
din of the Walpurgis-night* disturbed the heated fancy of 
rustic clowns. 

But though the mythology of Odin was rooted out in the 

* Walpurgis was the sister of St. "Wilibald, and born in England; died 
in 780, after having been Abbess in the convent of Heidenheim founded 
by her brother. She was canonized, and supposed to possess disenchanting 
powers. Fires are lit, in her honour, during the night of the 1/2 May. 
German Poetry abounds in allusions to practices associated with her me- 
mory. — Traitd. note. 



154 THE ICELANDIC EDDA. 

mother country, it yet remained in full force in the northern 
regions of Scandinavia, until, after a long and obstinate 
struggle, it yielded to the superior energies of Christianity ; 
it has come down to us, fortunately, preserved in many noble 
songs and myths. Thus we are enabled to trace mediaeval 
poetry and the features of the German mind, as a whole, to 
the original source which flows down to us in the Icelandic 
Edda. In its present form, the Edda dates from the interval 
between Harald Harfagr, — in whose time the Northmen (or 
Normans) effected a settlement in Iceland— and the death of 
Snorro Sturleson and the decline of Icelandic liberty : ex- 
tending from 85() — 1250. In certain portions, frequent allu- 
sion is made to the Greek mythology, and even to Christian- 
ity, either with the view of assimilating, as far as possible, the 
leading features of the same with northern legends, or of 
connecting the latter with the history of ancient nations. 
Throughout the more important poetical portions of the 
older Edcla breathes, indisputably, the genuine and pure 
spirit of the northern mythology, which is, more especially 
in its poetic aspect/ distinguished from that of Greece by 
unity of plan and purpose. Hellenic mythology is, perhaps, 
too copious to be conveniently framed as one unique whole. 
Compared with the northern, it is deficient in a true end. 
The Grecian world of gods and heroes gradually merges 
into that of humanity; its poetry is lost in prose and reality. 
Northern mythology fittingly closes with a catastrophe to 
w T hich all that precedes has a prophetic deference ; and its 
essential features are comprehended in a single work, the 
Edda. The whole is, as it were, a consecutive poem, a con- 
tinuous tragedy. It is a connected natural epic, detailing 
how, in the beginning, the world generally, and the earth 
in particular, proceeded from the remains of a giant; on 
the advent of happier times, Tsdragill, the sacred Ash, 
bloomed in vigorous life, where, of yore, the dread abyss 
had yawned. Then appeared the tree of life, casting its 
deep roots into the lowest depths, and, with its wide-spread 
branches, encompassing the universe. Heroes, and benevo- 
lent Genii, are in arms against enormous giants and the 
ancient powers of darkness, and in the end prevail ; the 
ruin of the gods and the Asen, of Odin and his warriors, is 
at hand, all is one connected great poem on Nature and the 



THE ICELANDIC EBDA. 155 

deeds of Heroes. The essence of tbe whole, as in most of 
the old legends, is the destruction of a glorious hero- world. 
In accordance with this idea, the noblest, bravest, and most 
handsome hero is generally the first to be cut off in the 
flower of his youth. "While Odin assembles his trusty com- 
rades in the halls of Walhalla, and animates them for the 
approaching fiual struggle, he is himself predestined to be 
defeated. The first event announcing general destruction 
is the death of Balder. To the hapless fate of the right- 
hearted Hector and the noble Achilles, which, in Trojan 
legend, is premonitory of the common downfall of heroism, 
Balder's death corresponds, in the prime of youthful man- 
hood, the especial favourite of the gods. Unavailing is 
Odin's visit to the nether world, in search of his friend. 
Ehla, when questioned, replies only in enigmas, like the 
Theban Sphinx of old : and refuses to surrender her prey. 

What approaches most nearly to truth is the description 
in the Northern Edda of the approaching obscurity and 
night of the gods with the overthrow of the good Asen and 
heroes of light — the irruption of darkness and its powers, 
which is to take place at the end of Time, and the terrible, 
though transient victory of the evil being, Loke — as well as of 
the new world of the gods, and the heavenly glory which will 
succeed that brief darkness. We are led to surmise that in 
all this there was something more than an unconscious deep- 
seated aspiration ; that, in fact, it indicates an imperfect 
knowledge of the truths of Christianity. 

At about the same period of Norwegian power, we may 
fix the date of Ossian's poems, at least so much of them as 
may be considered genuine. But since the sphere of their 
influence was entirely restricted to the Gaelic race in Scot- 
land, without producing any effect on the rest of Europe, it 
will be more convenient to investigate their merits on a 
future occasion. 



156 



LEOTUEE VII. 

Teutonic Poetey. — The Middle Ages. — Oeigln of mo- 

deen eueopean languages. — medieval poetey. 

Loye-Songs. — Ineluence oe Noeman" Chaeactee ON 

THE SPIEIT OE CHIYALEOUS PoETEY — MOEE ESPECIALLY 

eelating to Charlemagne. 

The Germanic races of the rest of Europe, likewise, at 
this time, evinced a fondness for poetry, by various efforts to 
celebrate in verse particular portions of Holy "Writ, and the 
principles of Christianity generally. In this, the Saxon 
conquerors of England, and Ottfried in southern Germany, 
took a prominent part. These efforts cannot, indeed, be 
considered as perfect triumphs of the Muse, nor were the 
achievements of later aspirants, in times of higher artistic 
development, much more successful. They are so many 
valuable memorials of the metrical diction of the age, espe- 
cially since Christian bards did not invent a new measure 
for themselves, but adopted that of the- old hero-songs. Of 
Ottfried this may be stated in the most definite terms, inas- 
much as a solitary war-song has come down to us, composed 
in the self-same measure. It is a psean, in honour of Lud- 
wig, king of the East-Eranks, triumphing over the Nor- 
mans. An authenticated lay, written with such spirit, nine 
centuries ago, is an inestimable memorial. The historical 
value of its contents is not unimportant : as for instance, 
where it describes the awful silence of the troops, in battle 
array, awaiting the signal for onset : — 

Impatient stood the Franks, 
Their fiery zeal scarce checking 1 : 
Panting 1 to quit their ranks, 
Nor of their own lives recking. 

A little further on are these lines : — 
Now the song was sung, 
And the battle begun. 

Thus proving that the custom, prevalent among the ancient 
Germans, of rousing the martial ardour of the combatants, 



THE ^IEELTJNGEX-LIED. 157 

by means of spirit-stirring melodies, was still usual. The 
opening lines of another poem, celebrating the praises of 
St. Anno, Bishop of Cologne, testify to the continued fond- 
ness for heroic lays throughout Christian Germany ; they 
ran as follows : — 

Of warrior-deeds were often told, 
Of captured fort, of ruined town : 
How empires fell by Knig-hts of old, 
How heroes part with arjjrry frown. 

The constant theme of epic poesy, namely, the downfall of 
national dynasties, and the contentions of heroes, is graphi- 
cally sketched in this exordium. 

Although the jNlbelungen-lied did not, probably, assume its 
present appearance until the commencement of the thir- 
teenth century, it is, yet, deserving of notice in this place, 
inasmuch as there is every likelihood that in its essential con- 
tents, perhaps of diiferent proportions and idiom, it took its 
rise from some of the historical epics of the Goths, and was 
included in Charlemagne's collection. 

The ingenious development of facts, and almost dramatic 
fulness of particulars, apparent throughout Homeric verse, 
were probably characteristic of Grecian genius, and all imi- 
tations of the same by other nations have resulted in utter 
failure. But among epics of a less ambitious character, and 
indeed in the chivalrous poesy generally of, comparatively, 
modern Europe, this patriotic poem stands unrivalled and 
alone. It is especially distinguished by strict unity of plan : 
being a picture, or rather a series of pictures, on a large scale, 
simple. The German language here exhibits a perfection 
and finish of which few vestiges remained in subsequent 
times. With great vigour and animation it united a ten- 
derness that first degenerated into affectation, and then into 
intricacy and hardness. It has been already remarked 
that the heroic traditions of all lands have much that is 
essential and substantive in common, but it is the business 
of minstrel-genius to interweave this general matter with 
the main features of national history, and engraft it on the 
peculiar sentiments and poetic genius of a people. The 
tragic views and reminiscences of an extinct hero-world are 
once more expressed in the death of a favourite warrior, 
noble, handsome, and victorious, but doomed to relinquish 



158 THE MIDDLE AGES. 

the matchless combination of so much glory prematurely, 
and in the bloom of youth : to which is attached a sad catas- 
trophe drawn from semi-historical records and national 
aunals. From this point of view, then, comparison with the 
Iliad naturally suggests itself : and if, in the German poem, 
the final catastrophe exceeds, in the depths of tragic pathos, 
any event mentioned in the Greek epic: on the other hand, 
the narrative, when depicting the death of the favourite 
hero, assumes a tenderness, a veil of exquisite delicacy, 
such as graces no similar scene in any other epic. Both 
sides of the picture of life, sunshine and shade, are sketched 
with a truthfulness equally happy : the beginning is as 
follows : — 
" Von Freuden und Hochgezeiten, von Weinen und von Klag-en 

Von kiilmer Helden Streiten, mogt Ihr nun Wunder horen sagen." 

" You may now hear the wondrous tale of rejoicing and 
marriage festivities, of weeping and lamentation, and of the 
conflicts of bold heroes." 

But before proceeding further in investigating the charac- 
teristic features of this great German epic, let us, once 
more, take a comprehensive survey of mediaeval times gene- 
rally. 

The middle ages are, sometimes, regarded as a chasm in 
the history of the human intellect, a void space, as it were 
between the genius of antiquity and the civilization of mo- 
dern times. Art and science are, by an ingenious fiction, 
supposed to terminate their existence, only to start into life 
from chaotic nothingness after a sleep of ten centuries : this 
is inaccurate, nay untrue, in two respects. The essence of 
ancient knowledge and culture never entirely perished, whilst 
much that is noblest and most excellent in the improvements 
of modern times was born of mediaeval genius. A question 
might be raised, whether ages most fertile in literary produc- 
tions were on that accoui.t, the best and greatest in a moral, 
or the happiest in a politica' 1 , point of view. The experience 
we have of Eoman grandeur, so decidedly antecedent to her 
literary development, ought to be applied by us as a test, 
Avhen examining the history of modern Europe. But if this 
standard of the worth and moral dignity of nations, the only 
proper one, be not accepted, regard being had solely to intel- 
lectual culture and its visible products embodied in litera- 



• THE MIDDLE AGES. 159 

ture, still a different stand-point must be taken from that in 
vogue which forms so low an estimate of the mediseval 
period. 

If literature be considered as the quintessence of the 
most distinguished and peculiar productions by which the 
spirit of an age and the character of a nation express them- 
selves, in short, as the features in which the genius of an 
age, or the character of anationisunmistakeably expressed: 
it must be admitted that an artistic and highly finished lite- 
rature is undoubtedly, one of the greatest advantages any 
nation can possess. But if an equal degree of literary 
excellence is demanded of all countries — irrespective of 
general development or any other distinctions soever — and, 
in its absence, censure is pronounced in terms of indiscrimi- 
nate obloquy, such a requirement can accord neither with 
justice nor the operation of natural laws. Everywhere, in 
particulars as in generals, in small things equally with great, 
inventive fulness is destined to precede the perfection of 
finished art, legend anticipates history, poetry is the fore- 
runner of criticism. Given, a nation unendowed with poetic 
stores that date from some time prior to the period of regu- 
lar artistic culture, and it may safely be asserted of the 
same, that it will never attain to any nationality of charac- 
ter, or vitality of genius. Poetic wealth like this, unaccom- 
panied, however, by really great advances in literature or 
science, was possessed by the Greeks during the whole 
extent of time ranging from the Trojan adventures to the 
days of Solon and Pericles, and to this circumstance their 
intellect is chiefly indebted for its distinguishing excellence 
and brilliancy. In corresponding proportions, the middle 
ages served iu lieu of such a poetic pre-existence to modern 
Europe ; their creative fancy few will dare to question. The 
beautifully-silent process of growth necessarily precedes the 
appearance of the blossom, whilst the blossom, in its turn, 
reveals its graces before the matured charms of fruit are dis- 
played. As in individuals, growth is the poetic bud of life, 
so in the career of nations there are moments of sudden 
development and intellectual expansion. With this univer- 
sal spring-time of poetry, in the history of "Western nations, 
the age of the Crusades, of chivalry, and love-songs may be 
fittingly compared. 



160 FATIOKAL LTTEEATUHE. * 

In addition to its poetic side, principally connected with 
invention, pathos, and fancy, literature has yet another 
point of view. It may likewise be regarded as the organ of 
tradition, the medium of transmitting, not only the know- 
ledge of past ages to coming generations, but also of pre- 
serving, and, in due course, of extending and projecting the 
acquisition. The poetic element of literature is the one 
that has become unfolded in the various dialects of modern 
Europe : the other, destined to the preservation of know- 
ledge and science, is contained in Latin literature, which was 
common to all Western nations during the middle ages. In 
this respect, too, if the spirit of those ages be properly 
ascertained, the progress of events will be found to be unlike 
the conceptions of it that are commonly received. 

For the sake of poetry, and the development of national 
genius, we might, indeed, wish, that Latin literature had 
not continued to be extant, or, at least, that this dead lan- 
guage had not been put to any use. By its means, history 
and philosophy were rendered inapplicable to the purposes of 
life. It is in itself a barbarism, and productive of most 
injurious consequences, when science and learning, legisla* 
tive and political business, are conveyed through the medium 
of a foreign idiom no longer breathing the spirit of life. 
The results were still more fatal to the interests of poetry : 
numerous poetic memorials of the German and other nations 
of the West are hopelessly lost, in consequence of the well- 
meant intentions on the part of translators and commenta- 
tors who metamorphosed spirited heroic legends and genu- 
ine verse, into fabulous, prosaic tales. On the other hand, 
much talent and many poetical productions have exerted no 
vital influence on nations and ages, because authors have 
wasted their powers in vain attempts to present vividly to 
others what was present to their own imaginations, through 
the medium of a dead language. In illustrating this remark, 
amid a host of examples it is only necessary to point to the 
Latin poem of Roswitha,* a nun who celebrated the praises 
of her great Saxon Emperor in a Latin poem, which had it 

* Hrosuita or Roswitha, properly Helena von Rossow, born about 920. 
Her poem on Otto I. was entitled " Paneg-yris in Oddonem." Her collected 
works were first published in folio at Nuremburg in 1501.2nd ed. by 
Schurtzfleiscb at Wittembur°\ 1707, 4to. 



THE LITIS" OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 161 

been 'written in German, would have been a valuable monu- 
ment of the language, of living history and not less of poetic 
art. Petrarch, too, considered his Italian love-sonnets as 
mere idle conceits, the ebullitions of youthful feelings, and 
rested his fame and hopes of posthumous glory on a Latin 
poetical panegyric of Scipio, that has long since been en- 
gulphed in the waters of oblivion.* Both in Italy and Ger- 
many, the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were rife with 
many genuine poets who chose to write in the Latin language, 
to the lasting injury of their fame. 

But, whilst lamenting the injurious results that ensued 
from the universal adoption of Latin in the middle ages, it 
must be borne in mind that, under the circumstances of a 
half developed vernacular, in the several countries of the 
West, a common idiom was indispensable not only for eccle- 
siastical, educational, and scientific purposes, but likewise 
for transacting the ordinary business of government. This 
was the invaluable link, uniting the mediaeval and modern 
world with the ancient. In all countries that adopted the 
Latin language, it was in an especial manner cultivated by 
the educated classes, as being the depository of all learning, 
in contradistinction to the degenerate, popular, or so-called 
vulgar tongue. Nor did this practice cease until the ninth 
or tenth century, when the plebeian dialect in these coun- 
tries, the Romance, adapting itself to local genius, and the 
influence of circumstances generally, grew to be a separate 
and distinct idiom. The transition, however, was so gradual, 
that it is difficult, if not impossible, to fix the precise period 
when this great alteration was effected. So. much the more 
natural was the delusion that induced people to regard Latin 
as a living language, long after it had positively fallen into 
desuetude. Hence the tradition of that tongue, together 
with its old pronunciation,- remained in continuous force for 
ecclesiastical uses, and were adopted by learned societies, 
both of the clergy and laity j it was only gradually altered 
and never entirely disused. 

The inheritance of the learning and ideas of ancient times 
may, justly, be regarded as the common property of collec- 
tive humanity, entrusted to the custody of all ages and na- 

* It remained unfinished. — Transl. note. 

M 



162 VINDICATION OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 

tions, under such sacred obligations, that we are entitled, in 
some measure, to hold the guardians of that awful trust re- 
sponsible for its safe keeping. The feeling of disapprobation 
with which we contemplate any violence done to this bond 
which connects us with the world of our ancestors, and re- 
gards such an attempt as barbarism is a perfectly just and 
commendable feeling. Yet, care should be taken lest, in the 
heat of indignation, casual neglect, arising from circum- 
stances over which human vigilance may have no control, or 
unforeseen accident, lead us to brand a whole age with the 
infamy of barbarism. There is no valid reason to charge any 
age with such a total interruption of that connection. Of 
wilful destruction, somewhat more frequent in the arts, few 
examples are afforded in literature. The only iDstance of 
intentional destruction that I. can call to mind is in the case 
of certain Greek erotic poets, at Constantinople, in compara- 
tively recent times, on the ground of alleged immorality and 
general licentiousness. In a purely literary point of view, 
this ethical and rigorous sensitiveness, so to speak, may, at 
first sight, appear culpable, and liable to the charge of over- 
awing the pure spirit of poesy, and menacing the safety of 
memorials of the past. Yet, the number of Greek and 
Latin poetic productions, of an erotic cast, still extant, is a 
tolerable proof that mediaeval compilers and copyists, Byzan- 
tine as well as Western, were not hypercritical in this 
respect. Unfortunate accidents, or the uncompromising 
exigencies of war have in former times occasioned the loss of 
many valuable remains of antiquity and of literature. This, 
too, has been the case in modern times, and since the inven- 
tion of the art of printing. How much more frequently 
would this occur when instead of printed volumes there were 
only costly and rare manuscripts. In the palmiest days of 
Grecian and Homan refinement, long before the Goths sacked 
E-ome, or the Arabs pillaged Alexandria, immense libraries 
became the prey of the flames in time of war, and hundreds 
and thousands of works thus, for ever, perished, since they 
no longer existed in a single manuscript. We deplore the 
loss of many valuable writers, and are on that account easily 
roused to indignation against the Middle Ages. It is ob- 
vious, however, that the loss of an individual author is an 
insufficient reason for preferring a charge of barbarism 



PRESERVATION OE ANCIENT WRITERS. 163 

against a whole generation. Of this we may be convinced by 
the well-known anecdote respecting the works of Aristotle, 
one of the most important relics of the Grecian mind, of 
which only a single manuscript was left by the ancients ; 
this copy, forgotten and ill-preserved, was found and reco- 
vered by a mere accident. This happened in the midst of 
that time which we are wont to recognize as the acme of 
Greek and Roman literary splendour. Granted that histo- 
rical criticism militates against the literal accuracy of the 
story, the result is the same : for what is here asserted of 
Aristotle, certainly happened in the case of many eminent 
writers, with less happy results, in the most flourishing 
period of antiquity. Due provision was made for the mul- 
tiplication of copies in the AVest since Charlemagne's time, 
with at least as great care and pains as ever were bestowed in 
Alexandria and Eome. That a preference was shewn to 
Christian writings and writers, cannot be a just cause of 
censure. But how many Pagan and Soman writings were 
also preserved in the West ? Constantinople was never 
sacked by the Goths, nor overrun with so-called Barbarians, 
up to the time of the Crusaders and the Turks. And yet, 
the whole amount of ancient Greek literature preserved to 
us by Byzantine efforts, is very much less than the propor- 
tion of Latin literary composition that has come down to us, 
though originally far less copious. 

Classical education was, upon the whole, admirably adapted 
to the preservation of learning in the earlier portion of the 
middle ages. Only next in importance to the promotion of 
Christianity, was the attention paid to the study of Latin, as 
being the vehicle of scientific communication : then came the 
cultivation of the essentials of the mathematics, whilst the in- 
mates of monasteries made it a matter of conscience and duty 
to assist, as far as possible, in multiplying the works of anti- 
quity by transcription. As far as the purity of the language 
itself was concerned, a matter of no slight moment underthose 
circumstances, Cicero and Quinctilian were the standards of 
imitation, standards scarcely to be equalled, certainly not 
surpassed, by any others of modern times. All competent 
judges admit that the written Latin of the eleventh century 
was superior to the written Latin of the Bo mans at the latter 
stages of their decline, as also to that of the sixth century. 



164 CULTIVATION OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE. 

Mathematical science was second only in the importance of 
its preservation to memorials of the languages : since it is the 
basis of natural philosophy, and of many technical crafts 
bearing directly oa life. The rapid increase of social 
prosperity in general and of particular cities, especially in 
Germany under the Saxon Emperors, the nourishing condi- 
tion of architecture, as well as of many other arts, consis- 
tent only with a highly scientific development, constitute 
evidence of the care that was taken to preserve the mathe- 
matical and mechanical knowledge bequeathed by anti- 
quity. 

The separation of the "West from the cultivation of the 
Greek language and literature would seem to present scope 
for regret. Yet the separation was never at any time com- 
plete. From the time that Charlemagne applied himself to 
the study of Greek, in his riper years, and appointed teach- 
ers to disseminate that language in two cities of south Ger- 
many, to the period wherein the last two Othos of the 
Imperial house of Saxony, sufficiently acquainted with 
Greek to converse in it, the knowledge of this language was 
never lost in Germany. At first, as may be supposed, the 
language was exclusively studied in reference to the Bible 
and the Christian Fathers: but in 904, Bruno, Archbishop 
of Cologne, a descendant of the same royal lineage, sent to 
Greece for learned men, in order to familiarize himself, as 
well as others, with the profane historians and philosophers 
of that country. Under the dynasty of Saxon emperors, 
closely connected with the Byzantine court by marriage, 
a number of fine churches and other architectural memo- 
rials were erected, especially in northern Germany, in imita- 
tion of St. Sophia's, the early model of Christian architec- 
ture. Taken altogether, Germany was, during this period, 
from the tenth to the twelfth century, at once the most 
powerful and highly civilized country in all Europe. 

We have seen, then, that the charge of barbarizing Eome 
and the "West, generally, which has sometimes been brought 
against the Germanic races, is utterly destitute of founda- 
tion. The accusation is one of aggravated injustice, when 
preferred against the Goths during the early period of the 
migration of nations. Long before their victorious appear- 
ance in Italy, they had embraced the doctrines of Chris- 



THE GOTHS IN" ITALY. 1G5 

tianity, and had acquiesced in the existing relations of 
the learned and religious orders of society ; they cannot, 
therefore, on the whole, be said to have demolished, but rather 
upheld the institutions of science, as far as was compatible 
with existing circumstances. Only a single exception to 
this statement occurs to me : when the Goths were led by a 
savage, pagan conqueror, not of their own nation, or when 
the demon of faction prompted them to wreak their ven- 
geance, for they were Arians, on the devoted heads of Catho- 
lics. The last bloom of really ancient Roman literature took 
place under Theodoric, and never did the pretended patriot- 
ism of Italy take so preposterous a turn as when her later 
bards took for their favourite theme : — the emancipation of 
Italy from the Gothic yoke. Under this very Gothic yoke, 
in Theodoric' s time, the dawn of better times for Italy ap- 
peared, which was only too soon overcast. Real misery 
and real barbarism set in, when the Goths were expel- 
led, and the oppressions of Byzantine eunuchs and satraps 
began. A more complete justification of the influences 
exercised by Germanic races on modern Europe cannot 
well be formed than in a comparison of the active aspi- 
rations, the glorious national energies of the European 
"West, the poetry of the middle ages, with the slowly 
wasting powers of the Byzantine empire, the political dry- 
rot of a thousand years. And yet, the Byzantines were 
in possession, of literary treasures and means of information 
infinitely greater than the Western nations, who were com- 
pelled to resort to them for instruction in many branches of 
learning. But even in literature and the domains of mind, 
real power does not so much depend on the inheritance of 
vast accumulations, as on the living, practical use made of 
them. 

Of a more unfavourable character were the conquests of 
those Germanic races that were not yet Christianized, of rude 
manners, and thoroughly unacquainted with Roman regula- 
tions and institutions of science, such as the Eranks in Gaul, 
or the Saxons in Britain. If an interval of destruction and 
darkness must needs be assumed, we must place it most cor- 
rectly in the period between Theodoric and Charlemagne, 
and even then it was not entire. Eor whilst Italy groaned 
under the pressure of Byzantine despotism, the light of 



166 * THE CONVENTUAL SYSTEM. 

intelligence and active industry took refuge in the far north, 
in the cloisters of Ireland and Scotland. Scarcely had the 
Saxons in England taken possession of their Christian inhe- 
ritance, together with the scientific culture of the period, 
when they speedily outstripped the nations of the West, and 
the glorious light of Truth was transplanted to France and 
Germany, never again to be extinguished. Since Charle- 
magne's time, a steady, methodical, and indefatigable diffu- 
sion of knowledge continued to increase, so that the actual 
epoch of the revival of learning, dating, according to some 
historians, from the Crusades, ought, in reality, to commence 
with the reign of that great monarch. In the time of the 
greatest obscurity, from the sixth to the eighth century, 
those institutions of learning, that received such powerful 
support at the hands of Charles, were gradually extending 
the sphere of their operations : I allude to the conventual 
system .* To these ecclesiastical corporations, by whose means 
the soil was rendered productive, the people civilized, the state 
established on a sure basis, and learning disseminated, modern 
Europe owes her subsequent ascendancy over the Byzantines 
and Arabs, though the former were vastly her superiors in 
point of inherited, preliminary knowledge, and the latter in 
external means and resources. If comparison be instituted 
between the poetical indigence of Alfred, or ihe frugal eco- 
nomy of victorious Charles, in connection with the limited 
appliances of both in their literary enterprises — and the pro- 
digality of wealth and splendour at the command of Harun 
al Haschid, or other Caliphs and Sultans, in their capacity of 
absolute sovereigns of the fairest oriental lands — for the ex- 
tension of learning, the "West seems dim and lustreless. 
Nevertheless, the triumphs of the West were brilliant and 
complete : clearly demonstrating that learning is better cal- 
culated to derive sustenance and vigour from free institu- 
tions and the steady growth of ages, than when dependent 
upon precarious patronage, such as the capricious smiles 
of interested despots. Charlemagne chiefly contributed to 

* The general spirit of Schlegel's remarks on the merits of the conven- 
tual system, will hardly meet with sympathetic response from Mr. Froude, 
(Hist, of England, from the fall of Wolsey to the death of Elizabeth), or 
Mr. Buckle (History of Civilization in England). — Trawl, ote. 



THE SAXON EMPEEOES. 167 

the civilization of posterity by non-intervention in the tem- 
poral affairs of the learned corporations of his time, con- 
fining himself to securing their liberties, and providing for 
the independent exercise of their functions. How im- 
portant soever the exertions of Charles for the improvement 
of Latin literature, as well as of the vernacular, it is indis- 
putable that Alfred, himself an enquiring scholar, and, for 
his time, a man of erudition, rendered still greater services to 
literature, especially in the improvement of his own tongue. 
But England sustained considerable injuries from the fre- 
quent incursions of the Danes, whilst many of the institu- 
tions for the promotion of learning, founded by Charlemagne 
in France and south Germany, were plundered and ravaged 
by Normans in the one, and Hungarians in the other. Civi- 
lization blossomed anew under Saxon Emperors, and dis- 
played a development of form more excellent than in the 
time of Charles and Alfred. Germany was, at that period, 
especially fertile in trustworthy historians, more so than any 
other European country ; reckoning from Eginhard, the 
private secretary of Charles, to Otto von Ereisingen, a prince 
of the House of Babenberg, son of St. Leopold, and uncle 
of the great Barbarossa, of the imperial family of Hohen- 
staufen : this was perhaps owing in part to the fact that 
Germany was the great centre of political action. Latin 
mediaeval histories generally went by the contemptuous ap- 
pellation of monkish chronicles, composed as they were by 
the clergy of the time. In adopting this opprobrious term 
people seem to ignore the fact that the historians thus 
libelled were for the most part of high birth, conversant with 
state-secrets, and generally speaking the best educated and 
well informed men of their day. Erom the abundant opportu- 
nities occurring in the course of their travels, they were 
competent to afford information, both interesting and in- 
structive, respecting the social arrangements of the remote 
East, or the still less familiar north, testimony the more va- 
luable that it proceeded from eye-witnesses. Thus, in de- 
preciating the middle ages, it was customary to string toge- 
ther the most contradictory objections. If clerical degene- 
racy were the subject of complaint, it was asserted that the 
clergy administered extensive rule, fared as sumptuously as 
princes, and directed the helm of the state. But if their works 



168 THE SCHOOLMEN. 

were criticised, it was alleged that they were ignorant monks, 
unacquainted with the world, and manifestly unfit to write 
history. In truth, the position of those authors was the very 
beau ideal of literary condition most calculated to combine 
the elements of success. For, whilst they had ample oppor-. 
tunities of knowing the realities of life, by mingling in its 
scenes, they had also the requisite independence and leisure 
for the privacy and dispassionate judgment of the closet. 
Such was, precisely, the situation of many historians in the 
time of the Saxon emperors, the value of whose labours the 
progress of historical research has, of late times, greatly en- 
hanced. In the department of philosophical enquiry England 
and France had very distinguished writers, even before the 
exercise of Arabian influence and their exclusive introduction 
of the Aristotelian system. In the ninth century shone 
Scotus Erigena, a name given to a certain philosopher of 
Scotland, or, according to some, of Ireland : no less profound 
was the erudition of Anselmus, though he did not care 
to extend the boundaries of truth beyond their existing 
limits ; Abelard was distinguished for his vivacity of thought 
as well as speech, likewise for his classical attainments, as 
also his pupil John of Salisbury. 

It will easily be understood that an interval of chaotic 
confusion necessarily ensued in those countries' adopting the 
Roman idiom, before the vernacular could, in every case, en- 
tirely disengage itself from the Latin, and be moulded into 
distinctive features. But for the intervention of adverse 
circumstances, the relations of the Germanic races would 
have been much more favourable to civilization, in this par- 
ticular. For it is, incomparably, a matter of greater facility 
to develop, in parallel degrees, two languages entirely dif- 
fering from each other, than it is to remodel two dialects in 
some measure interwoven and united. To effect the latter 
is ever a work of time. The loss of primitive dialects, on 
whose culture some pains had been bestowed, was of course 
unfavourable to the progressive advance of German literature. 
The Gothic tongue, after having attained to a certain regu- 
larity of form and expression, shared the fate of the Goths 
themselves. The Anglo-Saxon had arrived at a still higher 
degree of perfection, and, in Alfred's time, may be said to 
have embodied a complete digest of literature ; namely, a 



THE GERMAN" AND OLD-SAXON LANGUAGES. lG9 

collection of poems and translations, as also of prose histories 
and works of science. Yet this language perished, with the 
exception of some few memorials, on the conquest of England 
by the Normans, and from the mixture of their own, the 
French tongue, with other idioms, resulted the English of 
the present day. German had thus, a third time, to recom- 
mence the difficult task of reconstruction. This, accordingly, 
took place in the ninth century, when our present High- 
Grerman developed itself, a dialect of the Alemanni, consist- 
ing of a fusion of Gothic and Saxon, with intermixture of 
Latin : there had been earlier attempts to effect this object, 
but without definite result. In the memorials of the Ale- 
manni we observe the German language in that ill-assorted, 
unwieldy condition, and chaotic confusion, characteristic of 
tongues that after a severe internal struggle, have not yet 
arrived at consistency and proportion. In the eleventh and 
twelfth centuries, the collective Romance dialects underwent 
a process precisely similar. Before all other tongues German 
is wont to be considered of pure and original stock. En- 
comiums of this nature may, indeed, apply to Old Saxon, in 
all respects, but is not, by any means, true of our present 
High-German, which is of more recent date, and being one 
of those languages formed by blending Latin with old- 
German, is entitled to consideration, as enshrining the 
genius and civilization of the most refined European 
countries. Old-Saxon, which attained to its greatest per- 
fection, in England, during the reign of Alfred, was the 
genuine primitive stock of all German idioms, and common 
to the several cognate branches of that people. It is an in- 
disputable fact that the Saxons of north Germany spoke the 
same dialect as those of England ; the Eranks likewise ori- 
ginally used it, since it was common to the whole of the Ger- 
manic north. The Romans could employ the services of a 
Erank interpreter in England, the Saxon Briton needed 
none in Sweden, and when Alfred entered the Danish camp 
in minstrel's disguise, he sang no foreign lays, but had merely 
to modify his pronunciation slightly. But, it will be asked, 
in which of the varied German idioms were those poetic 
legends composed that Charlemagne had given directions to 
collect ? Certainly not in Gothic, for that idiom was ex- 
tinct, save where some spare remnants of its name still 



170 ORIGIN OF HIGH-GERMAN. 

lingered amid the Spanish Asturias. Neither in the upper- 
German of the Alemanni, a dialect which did not come into 
existence until some time after the decease of Charles, and 
which is styled Prank simply because, in the Carlovingian 
period, that term was applied to all German idioms without 
distinction. Nor should it be forgotten that even in his time, 
these songs or legends were from one to two centuries old. 
It may, I believe, be asserted with some degree of confidence, 
that they were translated from Gothic into Saxon, the Saxon 
that Alfred wrote, and that Charles spoke, when not using 
the Eomance : for he preferred living in the Ehenish Nether- 
lands, the old home of the Franks, whose idiom, likewise, was 
originally Saxon. 

This observation, being no less important in reference to 
history than to philosophy and poetry, I have thought de- 
serving of passing notice. 

The origin of High- German may be accounted. for in the 
following manner. German races, the primordial inhabitants 
of the Baltic coasts, of necessity changed their speech on 
migrating further south : the Goths, for instance, who settled 
on the shores of the Black Sea, and there founded a mighty- 
empire, from constant intercourse with nations of hetero- 
geneous mixture, naturally caught some of their expressions, 
and, in process of time, created a new idiom for themselves. 
In south Germany, more especially in alpine districts, the 
usual influence of climate obtained, a rough pronunciation 
and guttural accents characterizing that hilly region. Gothic 
and Frank rule, following in close succession in south Ger- 
many, produced a fusion of several German dialects, whilst 
the admixture of Eomance is attributable partly to the settle- 
ment of Eoman colonies on the banks of the Danube, and 
partly to the early introduction of Christianity into the dis- 
trict ; to the self- same cause, the presence of the Eomance 
on the north-west frontier of the Ehine is clearly to be 
traced, yet here the north- Germ an Saxon stock is, as a whole, 
comparatively pure and unmixed. These were the in- 
fluencing circumstances that changed the regular and beau- 
tiful Gothic tongue into the rough vulgar dialect of the 
Alemanni : which, after having been cultivated and polished 
for centuries, assimilated more and more to the Saxon idiom, 
on the union of northern and southern Germany under one 



THE PROVENCAL LANGUAGE. 171 

Emperor, and thus, in process of time, formed itself into 
high German. In the so-called Swabian period of Hohen- 
staufen rule, it attained to a full and regular conformation, 
but soon after relapsed into pristine rudeness, on the social 
and political decline of the empire. 

Of all Romance tongues, the Provencal was the first to de- 
velop itself, probably because it contained the smallest 
amount of foreign admixture. The country having early 
become subject to the Romans, the indigenous idiom soon 
became extinct : the German colony being proportionately 
small and unimportant. To conclude our survey of the 
languages of modern Europe with one or two general re- 
marks, it may be stated, that of all idioms originating in an 
intermixture of Latin with German, that of upper Germany 
or the Alemanni, and the Proven gal were the first to attain 
to any regular development, and they retained the greater 
purity that they were the least alloyed. Of three that were 
subject to more heterogeneous admixture than some others, 
Italian, Spanish, and north French, this latter, which differs 
most from Latin, did not attain its highest point of perfection 
until after the two former. The English tongue is the 
youngest of all in point of time, and contains nearly equal 
parts of Latin and German constituents. Here, too, the 
chaotic condition necessarily resulting from such a mixture 
endured longest. Tet, the intrinsic beauty, the sound vigour, 
the facile pliancy of that language, together with the national 
spirit of its literature, prove that happy results are by no 
means inconsistent with such elements of origin. 

The general regeneration of life and sentiment, in the 
age of the Crusades, was particularly manifest in the pro- 
gress of that kind of poetry called, in the Provencal, le Qay- 
Savoir, which produced such a host of lays of chivalry and 
love among the most genial European nations of that day. 
Since the accents of love breathe throughout all the chival- 
rous poesy of the period, thus constituting a marked feature 
which serves to distinguish it from other purely heroic songs, 
I will, first, proceed to examine the love-poetry. The Min- 
negesang originated with the Provencals, and was then 
adopted by the Italians, who are supposed to have, at first, 
composed the poetry exclusively in that dialect. The Pro- 
vencal is now, as it were defunct, and hence such memorials 



172 THE MINXESINGEKS. 

of it as still survive in collections of manuscripts are not 
turned to any account.* 

Next to France, in point of time, the Gag-Savoir bloomed 
in Germany, especially in the twelfth and thirteenth cen- 
turies. This species of song did not reach its full maturity 
in Italy until the time of Petrarch, in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, who bestowed upon it an artistic finish, whilst in Spain 
it bloomed a century later. Indeed, the last great poet who 
attained to any degree of celebrity therein lived far into the 
sixteenth century : this was Castillejo, who accompanied 
Ferdinand the First to Austria. 

In each of the above nations, the Minnegesang assumed 
distinctive and peculiar features, in accordance with the 
national genius ; neither is there any reason to suppose that, 
with the exception of Italy, any one nation borrowed largely 
from the rest ; whilst chivalrous poesy ever and anon was 
transplanted from one region to another, and became in 
some degree, a species of public property. The very form 
of the Minnegesang differed in various countries. Rhyme 
is common to them all, but rhyme musical, and almost pro- 
digal in sportive fulness. This quality, in which they all 
participated, is probably owing to the character of the 
music of that time, since they were originally intended to 
be sung. 

It has been asserted, on slender foundations, that the 
German Minnesingers derived their inspiration from the 
Provencal ; this is the less probable, seeing that there were 
love-songs at a date considerably earlier. So far back as 
the reign of Lewis the Pious, it was found necessary to in- 
terdict the nuns the too frequent use of these German love- 
songs or Wynelieder. Some of the German princes, it is 
true, more accustomed to Italy than to their own country, 
composed poetry in the Provencal dialect : yet this fact 
neither affirms nor denies any thing in reference to the 
German Minnegesang. Had their verse been copied, the 
German minstrels would scarcely have failed to make some 
mention of their models, as Petrarch often does with such 

* For further information relative to this, the elder, but least known 
branch of the Romance family of languages, the reader is referred to A. W. 
von cschlejjei's work " Sur la lang-ue Provencale." 



THE MINNESINGERS. 173 

feeling and beauty, and as the German compilers of narra- 
tive chivalrous poesy almost invariably cite their Provencal 
or French sources. 

However this may be, the German love-songs are 
thoroughly distinct, both in point of character, metrical 
form, and sentiment, from the Provencal and the French : 
the German being the most copious of all collections of this 
species of song now extant. 

The gentle spirit that animates them is a point which 
most readily strikes the reader ; and we start with wonder 
on beholding the names of knights who figure therein as 
heroes, emblazoned on the scroll of martial heraldry. Yet, 
this antithesis is any thing but rare in nature, and should not 
be alien to the heart that throbs with noble pulsations ; for 
in the midst of warlike preparation, the tenderest emotions 
will sometimes'be excited.* And thus the old melody, at- 
tributed to king Richard, is a soft plaintive ditty, scarcely to 
be expected from the lion-hearted hero. 

But whilst it has never been denied that the German love- 
songs are characterized by tender feeling, by graceful and 
harmonious diction, they have been charged with uniformity 
and puerilities. The first of these two objections is somewhat 
singular ; it is as though one complained of a superabundance 
of flowers in a garden, or in spring-time. Undoubtedly, 
poems of this sort ought to scent the path of life, in separate 
clusters, here are there, without nauseating superfluity. 
Laura herself might have been surfeited, had she read, at 
one sitting, all the stanzas in which Petrarch immortalized 
her beauty and his own passion. We now see, in a collec, 
tive poem, the varied charms of a hundred poetic garlands- 
which lose half their attractions, by being so primly fes- 
tooned. Though the songs are not all actually addressed to 
some fair charmer, but to some imaginary object, yet they 
were intended to be sung, and thus to enliven and embellish 

* Scott beautifully expresses the same idea, when he says (Lay of the 
Last Minstrel, canto iii.) : — 

" In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed I 
In war he mounts the warrior's steed j 
In halls, in gay attire is seen ; 
In hamlets, dances on the green. 
Love rules the camp, the court, the grove," etc. — Transl. note. 



174 LOVE-SONGS. 

social life. Moreover, it is a necessary element of love-songs, 
as, indeed, of lyric composition generally, if it be the out- 
pouring of fresh, natural feeling really emanating from the 
heart, to move only within a limited sphere of feeling and 
thought. This is confirmed by examples drawn even from 
the serious lyrics of every nation. Peeling must prepon- 
derate over thought, and have, as it were, a commanding 
aim, if it is to be suitably expressed in melody ; and where 
feeling predominates, richness of thought must hold a subor- 
dinate place. Variety of lyric verse is commonly met with 
in ages of imitation, when all conceivable subjects are treated 
in every possible variety of form ; the tone and taste of 
nations, most distinct and peculiar in their genius, are 
blended together without any reference to harmonious 
accord ; the original nature of the verse having degenerated 
into smart epigrams or elegant bagatelles. 

The other objection that has been advanced, that of 
puerility, is not altogether unfounded ; yet, I know not if it 
may, really, be considered as such. The ancients, though 
representing the fiery glow of passion in their erotic poems, 
still recognized the sportive elements of Love, inasmuch as 
their mythology depicted Amor in the guise of a child, with 
whose puerile appearance many fanciful conceits and images 
were connected. This animated character of chivalrous 
times is suggestive of the many violent results to which 
the passion led. The page of history teems with illustrations 
of their frequency. In the Minne-lieder the serious pas- 
sionate features of Love are not brought out in such strong 
relief. Not that they are as utterly exempt from sensuous- 
ness as the Platonic epigrams and sonnets of Petrarch. Yet 
the details of the passion are but lightly touched. With 
almost exclusive preference the Minne-singer treated of 
that kind of feeling which most readily admits of free scope 
for the play of imagination. The spirit of those songs, 
especially the German, may be thus described. Respect for 
the sex, one of the peculiar qualities of the Grermans, in 
the rudest times, grew still more refined as civilization pro- 
gressed ; when Christianity progressively purified all notions 
of morality and delicacy, this respect attained to a sublime 
tenderness, ennobling and beautiful, even for the purposes of 
poetry. The Provencal love-courts, and tribunals in which 



THE NOEMANS. 175 

verdicts were pronounced on disputed cases, with almost 
metaphysical subtlety, are altogether foreign to the spirit of 
the G-erman love-songs. These latter are artless when con- 
trasted with the ingenious conceits of Petrarch, or the re- 
joinders of Spanish lays ; yet more instinct with feeling than 
either, and celebrating not only the transports of affection, 
but, likewise, revelling in the charms of nature and the 
delights of spring. 

Epics are altogether the poetry of the past ; the bard who 
in an age of refinement, dares attune his lyre to genuine 
epic minstrelsy, surveying antiquity from some eminence of 
art, is rarely to be met with in the history of advanced civi- 
lization, and must needs possess a mind endowed with a com- 
bination of the highest natural endowments ; his presence 
is to be hailed as a rare phenomenon. Dramatic art, on the 
contrary, can never reach any great elevation or excellence 
except in polished times. Youth, whether of individuals or 
of nations, is the fitting season for lyrical excellence. But 
the period of the Crusades was eminently the rejuvenescence 
of activity and warlike ardour, as it was of fresh vigorous 
feeling, among the nations of the West. 

Next to the Crusades, the Normans, perhaps, contributed 
most to give a fresh impulse to European fancy. The prin- 
ciples of chivalry, it is true, were already sown broad-cast, 
forming, as they did, a considerable portion of the old Ger- 
man social system; poetical belief in the marvellous, in 
heroes of gigantic strength, mountain- sprites, mermaids, 
fairies, and weird dwarfs, remained as relics of the old 
northern mythology. But the Normans vivified all those 
chivalrous and poetic elements, with inspirations drawn 
directly from the living source. Neither did this spirit 
desert them when their sentiments became Christian, and 
their language Erench ; it was disseminated throughout the 
whole of Erance and Christian Europe ; it followed the Nor- 
mans into England and Sicily, and accompanied them on 
their dauntless expeditions to Jerusalem, in which they took 
so distinguished a part. Not their sentiments only, but 
their mode of life too, was extremely poetic ; it nurtured 
their inclination for adventure, in every enterprise it prompted 
them to choose the most daring and perilous post ; in a word, 
by continuously directing their attention to the marvellous, 



176 THE CRUSADERS. 

it enabled them to exercise great influence on the poetry of 
the middle ages. The history of Charlemagne seems to have 
been an especial favourite with them. The reliable portion 
of this history would appear rather unfavourable to the 
laurels of that emperor; as, for instance, the battle of 
Roncesvalles, in which the French army, having been sur- 
prised by the Arabs and Spaniards, sustained a total defeat, 
and Roland died heroically on the field. That reminiscences 
of this disaster were still cherished in the memory of the 
people, and early became poetic themes, can only be accounted 
for in this way ; that, despite so unhappy a reverse, the arms 
of Charles had, on the whole, presented a check to Arab 
incursions, and, beyond the Pyrenees, had established a com- 
mon bulwark for protecting the liberties of the entire West. 
There were additional points that lent a more than passing 
interest to this occurrence. Those knights had fallen whilst 
vindicating Christianity against her mortal foes ; though they 
had not been victorious here below, they had won for them- 
selves a crown of heavenly imperishable laurels. Their 
names were henceforth recorded in the glorious muster-roll 
of martyrs. With this view, unquestionably, the lay in 
honour of Roland was composed, the Norman war-song: 
viewed apart from this consideration, it is difficult to see 
why a plaintive strain should have been selected to arouse 
the martial energies of a warrior host. In the time of the 
Crusades, the history of Charles' exploits, of the battle of 
Roncesvalles, and of Roland's death, was celebrated as a 
crusade ; with the attention, at first, of holding it up as a 
pattern for the imitation of crusaders and knights ; indeed, 
a fabulous crusade was long attributed to Charlemagne. 
Traditions of sultans and the magic arts of the East were, by 
degrees, incorporated in this history, as also comic personages 
and ludicrous fictions of every kind. The crusaders, on 
their return, disseminated many fabulous legends, and about 
this time the account of the wonderful travels of Marco Polo 
■ — commonly called Messer Millione from his exaggerating 
tendencies — got into general circulation. Soon, there was 
nothing prodigious or monstrous, partially founded on fact 
or wholly fabricated, from Morocco to China, that was un- 
recorded in this comprehensive poem. Thus, the authentic 
narrative of the wars of Charles, essentially calculated to 



MEDIEVAL POETRY. 177 

form the subject-matter of an epic, was in process of time 
shifted from its rightful ground, and made the vehicle ot 
unbridled imagination. It assumes this form in Ariosto, and 
some others who preceded or followed him ; when the poet, 
sure of the magic of his diction and imagery, himself breaks 
through the illusion of his verse, by means of studied excess, 
gratuitous disorder, and the winged conceptions of his wit. 



LECTUEE VIII. 



Third set of chivalrous Poems. — Arthur and the 
Bound Table. — Ineluence oe the Crusades and of 
the East on the poesy oe the "West. — Arabic 
Song. — The Persian Epic op Ferdusi. — Last com- 
pilation oe the Nibelungen-Lied.— "Wolfram yon 
eschenbach. — eeal import of grothic architec- 
TURE.— Later chivalrous poetry. — The Cid. 

The subjects celebrated in mediaeval chivalrous poetry are 
especially selected from three different groups of fabulous 
history. To the first of these belong such legends as are 
immediately connected with Grothic, Prankish, and Burgun- 
dian warriors of the period of national migration. It is of 
their praises that the Nibelungen-lied treats, as also the so- 
called hero-booJc, which is a collection of fragmentary pieces. 
These heroic legends have, for the most part, some historical 
foundation : they breathe the northern spirit, they consti- 
tuted fruitful themes for Scandinavian minstrelsy, and are 
eminently suggestive of paganism and the old German my- 
thology. Charlemagne formed the second great topic of 
chivalrous poesy : especially his wars with the Arabs, the 
battle of Roncesvalles, and the famous exploits of his assem- 
bled chiefs. Narrative of this sort was not long in deviating 
from the track of genuine history : the activity of the hero 
was soon changed into the supine indolence of an oriental 
despot. This view may have been somewhat influenced by 
the circumstance that the Normans, the chief cultivators of 



178 AETHUE AND THE ROUND TABLE. 

this species of poetry, were accustomed to regard Charles, in 
the midst of all his renown, as similarly situated to the 
apathetic monarchs of [France in their own time. But, 
whatever the cause may have been, the fact remains, that 
descriptions of this prince gradually gained so great an ac- 
cession of comic humour as completely to overshadow the 
element of reality they contained, until they eventually de- 
generated into mere play of fancy, as is seen in Ariosto. 
This was not entirely the case with the third series of 
chivalrous poesy, including the story of British Arthur and 
his Hound Table. Here, too, the purely historical portion 
of the narrative was enriched with strange and marvellous 
additions afforded by the Crusades, and even farthest India 
was brought within the sphere of poetic representation. 
The Arthur of history — a Christian king, of Celtic origin, in 
Britain— and his contests with the early pagan leaders of 
the Saxons, would have constituted too meagre a theme for 
descriptive song, without extraneous assistance. Destined 
as it was to represent the ideal of perfect chivalry, this poem 
was embellished with all the imagery of gorgeous imagina- 
tion. With it were connected descriptions of the relations 
of love to chivalrous adventure. The most distinguished lay 
of this set partakes of the elegiac character, as may be 
gathered from its very name of Tristram. This plaintive 
elegiac tinge is exceedingly becoming to representations of 
this nature : both because of the striking antithesis obtain- 
ing between external life and the inward consciousness of 
the transitory evanescent charms of youth, which, in most 
cases, leaves an impress of melancholy : as also of the im- 
possibility of completely satisfying the aspirations of loftier 
humanity. The poetic atmosphere of knightly manners and 
deeds, with which the destiny of love is here associated, is 
throughout beautifying and ennobling. The representations 
of modern times, depicted in the stern reality of the present 
moment, resort in vain to psychological refinements and to 
a knowledge of life and manners to make up for the defect 
of poetic power. The world and its inhabitants cannot be 
known from books. It is, indeed, the province of poetry to 
arouse in the yet untutored bosom a presentiment of feel- 
ings, which are already a natural poetry, and to re-awaken 
those sensations in hearts which have before experienced 



ST. GEAAL. 179 

them : whilst it is her proud prerogative by a magical power, 
not to ennoble these feelings, but to preserve them in their 
natural element of Beauty. Of the longer chivalrous love- 
epics of the middle ages, Tristram is held in the highest 
repute by all nations : whilst, in order to guard against the 
risk of monotony, Launcelot, a personification of genial hu- 
mour, was added as a companion to the more pensive lay. 

There was yet another purpose to which the story of 
Arthur and the Eound Table was made subservient. It 
was not only intended to express the essence of knightly 
virtue, but also to embody the conception of a spiritual 
knighthood that, true to solemn vows and unscathed in the 
midst of a severe ordeal, had surmounted the successive 
steps of the ladder of perfection. This did not, however, 
prevent poetry from unfolding her rich profusion of match- 
less charms in depicting varied dangers by flood and field, of 
War and of Love, both in the East and the West. The 
name of St. Groat designates an entire series of chivalrous 
poems allegorically devised, of which the proposed aim is to 
point out the method by means of which the hero is to 
render himself more worthy of the secrets and relics to be 
entrusted to his keeping. But certain indications would 
lead us to infer that these poems were not destined merely 
to represent the ideal of spiritual knighthood, as it flourished 
in that age of foremost orders : but was likewise meant to 
express some of the symbolical conceptions and traditions 
entertained by a few of these orders, especially the Tem- 
plars. This point is, to some extent, fraught with historical 
signuicancy. Lessing was the first to take notice of this 
circumstance, as far as I am aware: and his opinion, owing 
to the extent of his researches, is entitled to our respectful 
consideration. Competent judges of these matters, on an 
attentive perusal of the older poems, will undoubtedly coin- 
cide with his views. The French Eomaunts of St. Graal 
bear unmistakeable traces of the fact, and their presence is, 
if possible, still more incontestable in the artistic German 
compilation. 

We have seen, then, that Arthur and the Eound Table, 
constituting the third series of fabulous chivalric poesy, 
bears a peculiarly allegorical character. These three, namely 
the Nibelungen, the exploits of Charlemagne, and the ad- 



180 THE CRUSADES. 

ventures of the Round Table, formed the leading subjects of 
mediaeval poesy : around these numerous other fictions 
gathered as around a common centre. It now remains for 
us to consider the varied manifestations of the genius of 
chivalrous poetry, as indeed of chivalry itself, that obtained 
in the principal countries of Europe ; also its duration, and 
the several modes in which this poetry became extinct, 
having in no instance attained to the full maturity of vigour 
and artistic excellence of which it was unquestionably suscep- 
tible. However, it will first be necessary to give a short 
sketch of the influence of the Crusades on the poetry of 
the "West, and also to allude to the connexion which the 
Eastern muse had with that event. 

One of the especial effects of the Crusades, was to arouse 
the imagination on contemplating so stupendous an under- 
taking. The achievements of Godfrey of Bouillon were 
celebrated in the self-same age in which he lived: they 
needed not the mystery of antiquity to render them poetical. 
And yet minstrels were found who preferred the fabulous 
tales respecting Charlemagne, and those of the Round Table, 
chiefly because they afforded a wider scope to the imagina- 
tive faculty. 

The influence that oriental poetry exercised on Europe 
by means of the Crusades, fall short of what is usually 
supposed : so much of it as is real belongs, for the most part, 
though not exclusively, to the Persians and not the Arabs. 
Of the several poetical works of the East claiming our 
notice, there are two which chiefly serve to express this in- 
fluence, and mark the spirit that was thus transmitted to 
Europe, or was originally akin to the genius of the north. 
These are the popular collection of Arabic tales, known as 
the " Thousand and one nights," with which we are all 
familiar : and the Persian epics of Eerdusi, who has been 
called at one time the Homer, and at another the Ariosto, of 
the East. 

The older poetry of the Arabs, before Mahomet, consisted, 
so far as we know, of lyric hero-songs, in which, without any 
reference to mythology, martial achievements and feelings of 
love were celebrated with the glories of some hero and his 
race. All that tended to exalt a favourite clan, or to de- 
preciate its rivals, was fearlessly and unreservedly stated. 



AEABIAN POETHY. 181 

Here and there, praises are interspersed with moral maxims 
and ingenious conceits, such as are congenial to oriental 
tastes. Mythology proper, or a digest of fictions relating to 
supernatural beings engaged in contest with each other, 
similar to the creations of the Greeks, the Persians, and the 
nations of the north, are nowhere found in early Arabic 
poetry. It is of so local a character as scarcely to admit of 
being transplanted ; indeed, a certain degree of acquaintance 
with. Arab life is absolutely necessary if we desire to appre- 
ciate, or even thoroughly understand their poetry. The 
absence of a peculiar mythology, and the restricted purpose 
of the song to celebrate the praises of some Arab clan, sug- 
gest a comparison with the strains of Ossian.* Only, that 
in the latter, a pensive elegiac tone is chiefly conspicuous : 
in unison with the feelings incident to a declining race, or 
the inhabitants of a region enveloped in mist, belted with 
the angry waves of the north sea, under the canopy of a 
murky sky. Whilst in the Arab verse, a proud, animated, 
and daring spirit prevails, the utterance, as it were, of a 
conquering people, and suited to the temper of a southern 
clime. Warlike and defiant sentiments, expressed in the 
tone of conscious triumph, are throughout apparent. Min- 
strelsy like this is of necessity, purely local, and flourishes 
only on its native soil. On the other hand, the strains of 
mythological heroic legend easily pass from one nation to 
another, and everywhere exhibit traits of close affinity. 

Mythological poetry was essentially foreign to the early 
genius of the Arabs. It is related of one of the contempora- 
ries of Mahomet that he introduced the Persian legends of 
Isfendiar and some other adventurous knights into Mecca, 
as a striking novelty, but was soon rebuked by his popular 

* " Fiugal," is come out a brave collection of similes, and 

will serve all the boys at Eton and Westminster for these twenty years. 
I will trust you with a secret, but you must not disclose it ; I should be 
ruined with my Scotch friends ; I cannot believe it genuine ; I can- 
not believe a regular poem of six books has been preserved, uncorrupted, 
by oral tradition, from times before Christianity was introduced into the 
island. What ! preserved unadulterated by savages dispersed among- moun- 
tains, and so often driven from their dens, so wasted by wars civil and 
foreign ! Has one man ever got all by heart ? I doubt it ; were parts 

preserved by some, other parts by others. Mighty lucky " — Horace 

Walpole's Lett, (clxi.) — Traiisl. note. 



182 PERSIAN POETRY. 

chief, who feared that their popularity would injure his own 
poetry and his own projects. 

This eager fondness for the exuberant fancy of Persian 
poetry was abundantly evinced by the Arabs when they held 
dominion over Asia. The "Thousand and one nights," 
already referred to, giving obvious proof of this. The critics 
of oriental literature are agreed in ascribing the more won- 
derful and fairy portions of these charming stories to Persian 
if not Hindoo origin. "We are as yet ignorant as to whether 
the Arabs possessed any indigenous chivalric poesy other 
than the panegyric hero-verse which has been briefly sketched 
above. But even though some strange production of this 
sort were at any time discovered, such a circumstance would 
not naturally invalidate the general proposition. 

Elfin-sprites, mountain goblins, mermaids, giants, dwarfs, 
dragons, and all the apparatus .of fanciful creation, consti- 
tuted the principal machinery of northern mythology long 
before the period of the Crusades. These were not borrowed, 
but bore marks of primeval kindred with Persian demono- 
logy. The soft fairy forms of the south, and oriental gor- 
geousness of colouring, were all that accrued to the West 
from an acquaintance with the East. But another remarka- 
ble point of agreement is yet to be mentioned. Considera- 
ble mythological importance is attached to the great Persian 
epic, in which the Bard — who flourished about the tenth 
century of our era —collected the various legends of his 
country's warriors and monarchs. He celebrated them in 
the richest glow of the language of that time, and the purity 
of his diction, together with his vivid fancy, earned for him 
the epithet of" Paradisaic." The splendour of Dschemschid, 
a hero who embodies in his own person all the perfection 
and excellence of sublunary greatness, inaugurates this fic- 
tion, as the golden age of Persia's ancient glory, and of the 
w r hole Asiatic world. But when, after centuries of renown, 
that Sun of Righteousness sets, and the monarch abandons 
himself to pride and arrogance, the land of light is given over 
as a prey to the powers of darkness. The combat between 
Iran and Turan, the holy domain of light and the wild 
region of darkness, now become the centre around which all 
future poetry revolves. The victory of the noble Feridun 
over the malignant Zohak, and his fruitless contest with the 



PERSIAN POETRY. 183 

fiend-like Afrasiab ; the universal dominion of the latter, and 
the gloom that shrouds the whole empire ; the advent of 
Kustan and his successful opposition to lawless violence, 
until King Chosru eventually terminates the career of Afra- 
siab's guilt and establishes an historical dynasty : all these 
are fictions embodying, in the form of heroic legend, the con- 
ceptions of a fierce struggle between light and darkness, such 
as the ancient Persians loved to contemplate. All their 
other poetry breathes a similar spirit, and expresses alike re- 
ference. Most of the Christian poems, dating from the 
middle ages, are based on a corresponding contest be- 
tween good and evil, light and darkness, an antithesis, by the 
bye, to which the Greeks were strangers. Christianity 
diifers from the Persian principles of eternal contention 
between good and evil, only in so far as this system is ex- 
tended to the sphere of the Divinity himself, and as the 
existence of two independent radical powers is assumed. 
But this distinction appertains, after all, rather to the 
domains of metaphysics. In the physical, as in the moral 
world, in nature as in man, Christianity recognizes the 
contrast of good and evil, the perpetual struggle of light 
and darkness : and this antithesis is apparent throughout 
the whole of Christian representation, poesy, and allegory. 
However this resemblance originated : whether in a simila- 
rity of the process of reasoning, or in the fact of blind and 
obsequious adherence to a beaten track, the inference is pre- 
cisely the same, and we cannot fail to see the links that con- 
nected the imaginative faculties of remote nations. 

The later romantic fictions of Persia, — Meschnun and 
Leila, Chosru and Schirin — in their character of chivalrie 
love-epics, a species unknown to the muse of ancient times, 
still remind us of mediaeval poetry. Yet the wild luxuriance 
and lavish prodigality of imagery, common in the East, are 
altogether at variance with "Western tastes, whilst the senti- 
ments of love and morality are depicted in a manner still 
more foreign to the genius of European customs. 

On comparing the Erench fabliaux and tales with Arabic 
stories, it will appear that many legends of the kind were 
brought to Europe, from the East, probably by the oral 
narration of the Crusaders. This conjecture, moreover, 
receives confirmation from occasional variations in details, 



184 EASTERN LEGENDS. 

as also from the peculiar shape in which some of these nar- 
ratives appear. The influence exercised may, at the same 
time, have been mutual, and it is not impossible that, here 
and there, a novel might have passed over to the Arabs, 
from the West, during a period of frequent and prolonged 
intercourse between oriental and occidental nations. No 
complete or connected epic seems to have been borrowed by 
Europeans from any Eastern source ; for even the fabulous 
history of Alexander, which afforded the Persians, too, subject- 
matter for a romantic epic, was taken from some Greek 
chronicle for the purpose of being remodelled into chivalric 
poetry. The legends of the ancients having reference to 
Trojan adventures, were likewise drawn from later popular 
books, by no means from any of the great poets. Our own 
age, so rich in historical lore, the first in every kind of imi- 
tation, can afford to look down with a certain degree of 
pride, if not of self-complacency, on such clumsy and childish 
efforts as Trojan and other chivalrous legends of the middle 
ages breathing the spirit of the antique. But with all these 
acknowledged deficiencies, the period referred to had certain 
compensating advantages, and it is not difficult to under- 
stand by what means those Grecian hero-legends rivetted the 
attention and the admiring sympathy of people in that age. 
It was the heroic-age of Christendom, and in those Greek 
legends there was many a feature calculated to suggest re- 
miniscences of chivalry. Tancred and Richard, with their 
minstrels and troubadours, in many respects resembled 
Achilles, Hector, and the Trojan rhapsodists much more than 
did the captains and bards of later and more cultivated 
times. Eor the same reason, Alexander's exploits were 
selected as a theme for minstrelsy to hallow, since, of all 
historical subjects, without any fabulous additions, they were 
best adapted to the constitution of an epic from the strange 
and poetical accompaniments associated with the career of 
that conqueror. 

On the whole, the general intercourse existing between 
diverse nations at this time, and not without effect on the 
several peoples of the West, was peculiarly favourable to the 
interchange of fiction, characteristic of different races and 
lands. So chaotic was the mixture resulting from this pro- 
cess that, in the sequel, some of the leading native traditions 



THE OLD GERMAN MINST11ELSY. 185 

of Europe resolved themselves into a mere play of the fancy, 
and were detached from all historical connection. 

There is but one general standard of criticism for the 
great mass of romantic poetry, which, at this time, was either 
limited to some one of the principal sets of mediaeval story, 
or, if independent of these, was founded on veritable fact. 
Their value is so much the higher in proportion as they rest 
on a historical foundation, and have a national import and 
character ; in proportion also as they exhibit the wonder- 
ful in poetry, and the free play of the imagination in an un- 
constrained and natural manner, and especially if they 
express the spirit of love. I do not mean merely a mild, mo- 
derate, and as it were loving treatment of everything that is 
represented, but rather the spirit which especially distin- 
guishes all Christian poetry ; even where the nature of the 
subject, or the intention of the poet requires a tragical result, 
it is never with the simple feeling of destruction, ruin, or 
inevitable fate ; but rather a new higher life in a glorified 
form is called forth from suffering and death, and the 
earthly victim, after succumbing to sorrow, is represented 
when the conflict is over, as adorned by a crown of victory 
in the upper world. 

Let us cast another glance at the further development of 
chivalric poetry, or its early decline among the foremost 
European nations down to the time of the E-eformation : 
beginning with Germany, whose literature in this respect and 
at this period, if not intrinsically the richest is at least the 
most fully known ; and ending with Italy, in which country 
the spirit of chivalry seems never to have had much domi- 
nion or impression, and whose poesy very early evinced a 
decided leaning to the form and manner of the antique. 

The actual commencement of the bloom of the old Ger- 
man minstrelsy dates from the reign of the Emperor Frede- 
rick the First, in the twelfth century. In the first portion 
of the fourteenth century the beauty of its early blossom 
had passed away : from this time, down to the Emperor 
Maximilian, poetry and the language generally continued to 
be treated after a manner apparently similar, though not 
really so. Increasing pains were bestowed on the cultiva- 
tion of prose, whilst verse as an art was neglected, poetic 
language gradually deteriorated and hardened, it passed on 



186 REVIVAL OF THE GERMAN LANGUAGE. 

to slow degeneracy till the commencement of the sixteenth 
century, when, simultaneously with the universal shaking of 
ideas, the instrument of thought, too, underwent a complete 
change. A barrier, as it were visible, separated and deiined 
the limits of art in the two respective epochs. Before Bar- 
barossa's time the high degree of culture to which Germany 
had attained, and that eminently distinguished her under the 
Saxon and early Frankish emperors, would appear to have 
been of a Latin rather than a purely German cast. The 
imperial Court and all that was connected with it was sensi- 
bly impressed with this stamp. The centralization of power 
from which emanated decrees affecting, not only the whole 
of Germany, but likewise one half of Italy, Lotharingia in 
great part Romanic, Burgundy all but completely so, and 
which swayed the destinies of numerous petty states, could 
not have been maintained in full efficiency had any other 
idiom than Latin been adopted. Hence too those emperors 
who were for long periods absent from Germany composed 
in Latin, as for instance some members of the House of 
Hohenstaufen, though there were others who made use of 
their own German tongue. But the same reasons that con- 
trolled state-action also influenced the commercial policy of 
Germany : the two principal dialects of the Slavonic and the 
indigenous idiom, namely north and south German, Saxon 
and Alemannic, not then coalescing as they subsequently did, 
but constituting two widely differing languages. The revival 
of the German language under Frederick the First appears to 
me not so much due to any private personal exertions he 
himself made in its behalf, as to the circumstance that there 
were several princes at this time, whose dominions though 
not extensive enough to demand the exclusive attention of 
administration, yet sufficed to secure the independence of 
their lords, who thus had leisure to indulge their literary 
tastes. To the courts of Thuringia's Landgraves and of the 
Austrian Babenbergers collected together an assemblage of 
poets and minstrels from various quarters. The extant form of 
the Nibelungen-lied doubtless emanated from some poet resi- 
dent in Austria. For the country and residence of the poet 
are indicated not only by great accuracy of local knowledge, 
but also by a manifest desire to dwell upon and extol Austrian 
greatness. The Margrave Budiger, a popular hero of the 
country, is mentioned not without some violence to chrono- 



THE NIBELUNGEN-L1ED. 187 

logy.* The same circumstance may have favourably influ- 
enced the descriptions of Attila : for in Hungary, closely allied 
as it was with Austria, legends relating to Attila were still 
fresh in the memory of many : he was revered as a national 
hero, and regarded by all classes with a more than common 
predilection. When Eudiger reminds Chriemhild, on her 
hesitating to accept a pagan husband, that many Christian 
knights and lords were assembled at the Court of Attila, he 
does so in strict accordance with historic truth.f Another 
passage is somewhat more startling, in which the mode of life 
at that Court is represented to have been partly of a Chris- 
tian and partly of a pagan character : and where it is said 
that Attila rewarded each according to his deserts and the 
measure of his life and deeds. Thus poetry arbitrarily 
changed the character of Attila, the ruthless conqueror, into 
that of a gentle magnanimous ruler resembling the Chris- 
tian emperors ; whilst she represented Charlemagne, the 
most energetic of autocrats, as an indolent monarch who 
accomplishes nothing. 

The period at which the JNTibelungen-lied was last com- 
piled may, in all likelihood, be fixed in the reign of Leopold 
the Glorious, the last but one of the line of Babenberg.J 
And since the composer of such a work could not well have 
been an obscure personage, if we were inclined to point to 
some one name as the probable author, Henry of Ofterdin- 
gen, born in Thuringia but settled in the Austrian domi- 
nions, might be mentioned. But whatsoever our opinion 
on this head may be, now that so noble a poem has been the 
subject of paraphrase and comment, and like the Homeric 
songs, been taken in hand by a numerous tribe of critics and 
poetasters : it is tolerably clear that it did not result from a 
mere collection of fragmentary legends, but in its present 
form, was the production of some eminent master of lyric 
art, who, by the magic of his verse and the skilful combina- 

* There is a considerable interval between the two periods. — Transl. 
note. 

f Mr. Lockhart is in error in supposing ChriemMld to have been of the 
male sex : she was the wife o? Siegfried, and is sometimes called Gud- 
nm. — Transl. note. 

X The house of Babenberg* derived from the Frankish kings, and was 
noted for the number of its illustrious scions. Besides Leopold the 
Glorious, the scourge of rebellious races, Duke Albert, too, proved him- 
self not unworthy of his high linenge. — Tiansl. note. 



188 THE NIBELENGEN-LIED. 

tion of his materials, has produced a work far surpassing all 
others of the same kind in that age. 

This poem excels all its contemporaries not merely in the 
picturesque genius of its diction, the tasteful grouping of its 
subjects, but also in the uniform regularity of its arrange- 
ment. The conclusion is almost dramatically perfect : it is 
divided into six books, these in their turn are subdivided 
into lesser portions or cantos, like so many rhapsodies suit- 
able to the minstrel's art. The bard has faithfully adhered 
to the sources whence he drew his inspiration, for with the 
exception of individualities, few actual traces of the Crusades 
are observable throughout the work : if there be any such 
vestiges, they are isolated, and by no means generally cha- 
racteristic of the spirit which was impressed on most, if not 
all, of the compositions of that time. 

The influence of the Crusades and of other expeditions to 
the East, necessarily so acceptable to the bards of the period, 
is much more visible in many portions of the Hero-book, 
which are very unequal in value. 

Of the remaining poems of chivalry, those relating to 
Charlemagne were most probably the first to appear in a 
German form, but subsequently Arthur and the Bound 
Table became a prodigious favourite. Were I inclined to 
pass a general verdict on the merits of this old G-erman 
poetry, of chivalrous and romantic contents, or to describe 
what might have been desiderated, I would say that in its 
essential spirit and tone it too nearly resembles the Minne- 
lieder. The perfection of chivalric poesy would, in my 
opinion, consist in these two points : a thorough identifica- 
tion with the spirit of national legend, and an heroic ener- 
getic vigour almost equal to that of an epic, coupled, in those 
passages that more immediately appeal to the feelings with a 
tenderness such as pervades the Minne-lieder. And it' Chris- 
tian allegory lent the charms of her poetic beauty to the whole, 
there would be a desirable accession of calm and transparent 
depth. I will not now stop to consider whether this ideal 
standard of perfection has been reached by any of the roman- 
tic poets of Italy, England, or Germany. Torquato Tasso 
appears to have approached nearest to it. A few German 
versions of stories of that age, especially Tristram, are still 
extant in musical rhythm and elegant tenderness of expres- 
sion 5 they altogether breathe the spirit of the Minne-lieder. 



•WOLFEAM VON ESCHEKBACH. 1S9 

Wolfram von Eschenbach* was, upon the whole, the most 
artistic German bard of this period: he selected from the 
story of King Arthur such portions as contained manifest 
allegory, and an allusion to spiritual chivalry : especially 
those symbolical traditions relating to the Templars, to 
which I have referred above. In his own age, Wolfram was 
equally celebrated, throughout the whole of Germany, with 
Dante, to whom he may justly be compared, both on account 
of their common partiality for allegory, and a fondness for 
parading that erudition in which they certainly excelled all 
contemporary minstrels. He may be compared to Ariosto 
in regard to his oriental fulness of detail and gorgeousness 
of colouring. Old poems, in this respect, resemble old paint- 
ings or other works of art ; it often happens that when first 
these are rescued from the dust of ages, their great value is 
not thoroughly, if at all, appreciated, but when they have 
undergone a process of restoration, their excellence is patent 
to all eyes. Comparison can rarely, in full justice, be insti- 
tuted between poets who flourished in different ages and in 
the midst of different nations, inasmuch as each constitutes 
a distinct and separate existence. I therefore prefer adopt- 
ing another mode of comparison. In the sublime simplicity 
of idea, as also in the peculiar style of decoration, that cha- 
racterize these poems, they bear a striking resemblance to 
the monuments of Gothic art, which still impress the be- 
holder with mixed feelings of astonishment and admiration. 
The resemblance is further increased by the circumstance 
that Gothic architecture, like chivalrous poesy, remained, to 
a certain extent, an Idea, never being fully developed into 
practical application. Isolated, imperfect, or decaying struc- 
tures, afford but little insight into their plan or their figura- 
tive signification to any one unacquainted with the leading 
types of Gothic art, and ignorant of the ideas it embodies. 
The real mediaeval, more especially that of Germany, is no- 
where so thoroughly expressed as in the memorials of this 
architectural style, erroneously called Gothic ; the origin of 
which, as also its progressive features, may, to this day, be 
said to be lost in obscurity and doubt. The misnomer is 

* Sometimes called Eschilbach, he lived in the early part of the 13th 
century. — Transl. note. 



190 MEDIAEVAL ARCHITECTURE. 

now generally admitted, and it is commonly understood that 
this mediaeval style of architecture did not originate with 
the Goths, hut sprung up at a later date, and speedily 
attained its full maturity without exhibiting various grada- 
tions of formation. I allude to that style of Christian art 
which is distinguished by its lofty vaults and arches, its pillars 
which resemble bundles of reeds, and general profusion of 
ornament modelled after leaf and flower : totally unlike the 
older species of art copied from the modern Greek structure 
of St. Sophia's, Constantinople. There is very little, if any, 
of the Moorish element in this style: whilst edifices, unde- 
niably Moorish, scattered throughout Sicily and Spain, are 
of a totally different stamp. In the East too, so-called 
Gothic structures abound : but built by Christians, being 
for the most part castles and churches of the Templars and 
the Knights of St. John. The period during which this 
peculiar architecture flourished may be said to include the 
twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. Germany 
was, doubtless, its more immediate home ; and, in accordance 
with its principles, German artists built the cathedral at 
Milan, to the no small astonishment of Italians at that 
time. But its adoption was, by no means, confined to Ger- 
many or the German Netherlands, but diffused over exten- 
sive districts of England, and the north-west, of Erance. 
"We are altogether unacquainted with the real originators of 
these architectural principles : they could scarcely have 
been conceived from the designs of one individual master, or 
his name would, most probably, have been recorded. It is 
more likely to suppose that the design emanated from some 
artistic association, closely allied and confederated, in differ- 
ent countries. But whoever the originators, it is evident 
that their intention was not merely to pile up huge stone 
edifices, but to embody certain ideas. How excellent soever 
the style of a building may be, if it convey no meaning, 
express no sentiment, it cannot strictly be considered a 
creation of Art : for it must be remembered that this, at 
once the most ancient and sublime of creative arts, cannot 
directly stimulate the feelings by means of actual appeal or 
faculty of representation. Its broad import alone, then, 
enables it to become the exponent of a certain class of sen- 
timents, to arouse the pathos of noble natures. Hence, 



MEDI^VAIi AECHITECTUBE. 191 

architecture generally bears a symbolical hidden meaning, 
whilst the Christian architecture of mediaeval Germany does 
so in an eminent and especial degree. Eirst and foremost, 
there is the expression of devotional thought towering 
Doldly aloft, from this lowly earth, towards the azure skies 
and an omnipotent God. Such is, at least, the impression, 
though it may not, in all cases, resolve itself into distinct 
sentiment, on beholding the sublimity of those vaulted 
arches and those fluted columns. The whole plan is indeed 
replete with symbols of deep significance, traced and illus- 
trated, in a remarkable manner, in the records of the period. 
The altar pointed Eastward : the three principal entrances 
expressed the conflux of worshippers gathered together from 
all quarters of the globe. The three steeples corresponded 
to the Christian Trinity. The Quire arose like a temple 
within the Temple on an increased scale of elevation. The 
form of the Cross had been of early establishment in 
the Christian Church : not accidentally, as has been conjec- 
tured by some, but with a view to completeness, a consti- 
tuent part of the whole. From the first, Christian archi- 
tecture avoided the use of rounded pillars, but since the 
combination of three or four shafts w r as not in unison with 
the laws of artistic beauty, the graceful tubular form, so 
rich in its simplicity, was adopted. The rose will be found 
to constitute the radical element of all decoration in this 
architectural style : from it the peculiar shape of window, 
door, and steeple is mainly derived, in their manifold variety 
of foliated tracery. The cross and the rose are, then, the 
chief symbols of this mystic art. - On the whole, w r hat is 
sought to be conveyed is the stupendous Idea of Eternity, 
the earnest thought of Death, the death of this world, 
wreathed in the lovely fulness of an endless blooming life in 
the world that is to come. 

I have thus wished to shew, in passing, by an example, to 
how great an extent some of the phenomena of the middle 
ages still stand in need of comment and explanation : not- 
withstanding that ordinary critics are in the habit of indis- 
criminately rejecting much, of which they know neither the 
origin nor the real import. 

The fourteenth and fifteenth centuries witnessed a leaning, 
in German poetry, to the moral didactic species, partly alie- 



192 REINEKE TUCHS. 

gorical, partly satirical in character. The fabulous story of 
Beinehe Fuchs may be cited as a fair example of this style 
of composition : in which a facetious description is given of 
the world as it then was constituted, how among citizens 
and knights, populace and monarchs, the honest man fared 
the worst, and how, among the lower animals, the wily fox 
carried off the victory, along with fortune, honour, and do- 
minion. If chivalric minstrelsy had gradually drawn nearer 
to the regions of fancy till, at last, it completely lost sight 
of its historic home, the opposite extreme was now resorted 
to, of compiling detailed metrical chronicles. Thus an effec- 
tual barrier was set up between the two constituent elements 
of genuine epic verse. The two last chivalrous efforts, dating 
from the period of older poesy, of any importance, were pub- 
lished, and one of them probably composed in part, by the 
emperor Maximilian — TheuerdanTc and Weisslcunig. They 
areof the essence of chivalric poetry, if judged bythe spirit that 
pervades them, and therefore valuable : whilst the garb in 
which they are clad— half history, half allegory— is anything 
but happy or fitting, being rather a clog upon that noble 
freedom which may with truth be styled the last lingering 
relic of the fine old German spirit. 

In France, as in England, whilst the spirit of chivalry 
continued to exert an influence on society, yet its poetry de- 
clined at an early period, before it had attained to any thing 
approaching to artistic development. In Trance this species 
of verse speedily resolved itself into prose, and long tedious 
chivalric chronicles were substituted for the living strains of 
the older poetry. The change was not quite so unfavourable 
in England, inasmuch as, here and there, poetic chords still 
vibrated with the melodies of the olden time, embodied in 
romance and ballad. A few Erench romances, too, are ex- 
tant, possessing a certain degree of pathetic tenderness ; 
yet, they cannot for a moment compare with the rich tones 
of English and, especially, Scotch ballads ; any more than the 
Minne-lieder of nortb-Erance can vie with the Provence 
minstrelsy. Of the genuine poets who flourished during the 
older Erench period, Thibault, Count of Champagne and King 
of Navarre, deserves a high, if not the foremost, position. 
The fictitious histories of Charlemagne and the Round Table 
were first rendered from Latin into Erench> and orally per- 



THE EOMANCE OF THE EOSE. 193 

petuated in the lays and legends of that language. But we 
cannot well separate the two countries — France and England 
— in detailing the literature of this period. When the 
Minne-lieder flourished, Provence was a fief of the German 
empire, and under the seignioralty of Burgundy ; from the very 
time that Frederic Barbarossa enfeoffed Count Berengar, 
the palmy period of the Minne-lied and of intellectual cul- 
ture generally dates in Provence, separated from the rest 
of Prance by a different idiom and mode of government. 
On the other hand, the northern and eastern provinces were, 
for the most part, subject to English rule : hence a material 
share in promoting the development of mediaeval chivalry and 
poesy is attributable not to the inhabitants of Prance exclu- 
sively, but to the Normans in England as well as Prance. 

The well-known Romance of the Eose, famous and dis- 
tinguished as it was, scarcely permits us to entertain any 
lofty notion of the early progress of the language. French 
literature of the fourteenth century does not present any 
very attractive aspect : chronicles of chivalry were indeed 
extensively multiplied, but, as far as we are enabled to judge, 
the language of the age was by no means comparable to 
either the prose or poetry of Spain and Italy, in point of 
• finished culture or forcible expression. The perfected form, 
of the French idiom was reserved for a more later time. In 
this respect England likewise advanced but slowly : for even 
Chaucer, whose talents and attainments were so distinguished 
that he may be taken as a fair standard for the language of 
the period, had effected great improvements. It is, per- 
haps, owing to the terrible wars that England waged against 
Prance in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, as also the 
sanguinary feuds of York and Lancaster, that a happier de- 
velopment both of language and of poetry was so long re- 
tarded in both these countries : moreover, it is not impro- 
bable that much has been lost which deserved to be known. 
But, judging from what remains, the actual literary wealth 
of Prance and England may be said to consist in Romances, 
more especially fabliaux and short tales and novels : from 
these same sources Boccacio often drew his fictions, but 
he requited the obligation by flinging around them a pro- 
fusion of charms and arraying them in fresh grace and attrac- 
tiveness. 



194 EKENCH HISTORICAL MEMOIRS. 

It is worthy of observation in how peculiar a manner 
French literature at this period justly claimed preference in 
that particular department in, which it has been so distin- 
guished in more modern times. I allude to historical 
memoirs of celebrated persons and their times ; a species of 
composition arguing great powers of observation, coupled 
with a lively facility of expression — the graphic features of 
which give it a resemblance to romance. 80 early as the time 
of St. Louis and his trusty companion the Sieur de Joinville, 
this characteristic excellence of French literature, began the 
development which it reached at a later period. 

Spain has considerable advantages over many other nations, 
in the possession of its historical epic, the Cid. It is this 
species of poetic art that exerts the most powerful and lasting 
influence on national feelings and character. A single monu- 
ment, like that of the Cid, is more invaluable to a people 
than whole libraries of genius and wit, without national asso- 
ciations.* Even if it does not carry us back to the eleventh 
century, as is maintained by some, yet the spirit that marks 
this epic throughout proves its composition to have been 
antecedent to the Crusades. There is no trace of oriental 
tastes, or inclination to fable and the marvellous. The 
single-minded and true-hearted old Castilian spirit is every 
where apparent : it is, undoubtedly, the genuine history of 
the Cid, related not long after the occurrences it commemo- 
rates took place, the whole arranged as an historic epic. It has 
before been remarked that heroic legend is, more especially 
in the mythology of different nations, commonly associated 
with elegiac, if not tragic, feeling and tone. But there is 

* " How the old Spaniards should have come to be so much more wealthy 
in this sort of possession than any of their neighbours, it is not very easy 
to say. They had their taste for warlike song in common with all the 
ether members of the great Gothic family : and they had a fine climate, 
affording, of course, more leisure for amusement than could have been en- 
joyed beneath the rougher sky of the north. The flexibility of their beau- 
tiful language, and the extreme simplicity of the versification adopted in 
their ballads, must, no doubt, have lightened the labour, and may have, 
consequently, increased the number of their professional minstrels,"— Lock- 
hart's Ancient Spanish Ballads. With great deference to Mr. Lockhart's 
opinions, it can scarcely be doubted that her frequent warfare with the 
Moors and other invaders greatly influenced this department of the litera- 
ture of Spain. — Transl. note. 



POEM OF THE CLD. 195 

also another and less serious aspect of the heroic character, 
occasionally depicted by the ancients. Thus, the unwieldy 
strength of Hercules is sometimes described with comic 
humour, and many of the adventures of Ulysses do not mate- 
rerially differ from merry pranks. This ludicrous quality is 
more prominent in the historical consideration of great 
heroes and magnanimous characters. For though the re- 
presentation of heroic bravery, and physical strength, be 
strictly historical, yet the hero himself does not appear in 
the poetic background of marvellous ages, but in the midst 
of the realities of life ; the greater the contrast afforded by 
his superiority to the circumstances, the exigencies, the dan- 
gers that beset his path, the more scope is there for humorous 
situations, which, without detracting from heroic grandeur, 
invest it with an appearance of increased truth and pathos. 
The Cid abounds in comic passages of this sort : as for in- 
stance when E-uy Diaz, in his endeavours to replenish the 
Exchequer for the purpose of meeting the demands of the 
Moorish wars, has resource to fraudulent means, viz : depo- 
siting a chest filled with stones, instead of gold, as security for 
a loan advanced by a Jewish usurer. Again, the miracle that 
took place — when some one was on the point of desecrating 
the Cid's corpse, by attempting to pull his beard, and forth- 
with his terrible sword, the scourge of Moorish hosts, all but 
leaped out of its scabbard, to the dismay and discomfiture of 
the would-be desecrator. These popular jests are, perhaps, 
not altogether out of place in a poem of this period : 
more delicate irony is couched in Donna Ximena's lamen- 
tations over the protracted absence of her lord, addressed to 
the king, and in the monarch's replies to her plaints. The 
romances translated by Herder* are indisputably of later 
date : yet they are impressed with the tone and character of 
the older ballads, and, in the original, possess peculiar un- 
affected grace, which has not been retained in the somewhat 
careless version of their translator. f 

* Herder's genius inclined to philosophy : the wonder is rather that so 
studious a disciple of Kant should have done so much, rather than so little., 
in the domains of poetic translation. — Transl. note, 

t To shew from how different a point of view critics may regard the 
same performance it is only necessary to quote Bouterwek's ideas of the 
Cid, in his "Hist, of Span. Lit.," he says : — " The small portion of poeti- 



196 SPANISH BALLADS. 

The Spaniards have as rich a store of romance as the 
English ; but the pre-eminence of the former consists in the 
circumstance that they are not mere ballads in the more 
restricted acceptation of the term, a large majority of them 
being both devised and compiled in the epic form ; thus pre- 
senting equal attractions to the illiterate and to the educated, 
since they are at once national in feeling and elegant in 
tone. The poetry of the people is invaluable as a record of 
the glorious minstrelsy of the past, but it is not in accord- 
ance with her design or with her destiny that Poetry instead 
of quickening the energies of a collective nation, should 
alone elicit the sympathies of the uneducated. Such iso- 
lated fragmentary verse is apt to become more and more 
unintelligible with the progress of centuries : and it is most 
frequently found in those countries whose poetic feeling is 
indeed strong, but whose legends and national associations 
of every kind have sustained some violent concussion by 
long continuance of civil wars or a general revolution in 
systems of thought. 



LECTUEE IX. 

Italian Litebatttee. — Medieval Allegory. — Christi- 
anity AND POETBY. — DANTE, PeTBAECH, BoCCACLQ. — 

General chabacteb oe Italian poetry. — Latin verse 

OE MODEBN TIMES. — InJUEIOUS INFLUENCE OF THE 

same. — Old Roman systems oe polity. — Macchia- 
velli. — impobtant discovebies of the fifteenth 

CENTLEY. 

In the preceding Lectures I have endeavoured to give 
a general sketch of several European nations — the Germans, 

cal colouring with which the dryness of the relation is occasionally re- 
lieved, is the result of the chivalrous earnestness of the writer's tone, and 
of a few happy traits in the description of some of the situations." This 
hardly coincides with Lockhart, Dillon, Grimm, Southey, or Depping — 
Transl note. 



EARLY ITALIA.N POETRY. 197 

the French, the English, and the Spaniards — with especial 
regard to their poetry and intellectual culture in the middle 
ages on to the sixteenth century. The literature of the 
Italians remains for our consideration, and I have purposely 
reserved the examination of it until now, since it constitutes 
the transition from mediaeval poetry to the comparatively 
modern literature of later centuries : a period during which 
Science and Art were not only revived but extended and im- 
proved in a manifold degree. 

The Elder Italian poetry is, on the one hand, in close 
connexion with mediaeval philosophy, as in the allegorical 
masterpiece of Dante : on the other, it was materially in- 
fluenced by the types of antiquity, its artistic cultivation 
being in intimate relation with the study of the dead 
languages. Petrarch and Boccacio were scholars as well as 
poets, who took the greatest share in the revival of the 
knowledge of antiquity. Both the spirit and poetry of 
chivalry made but a faint impression on Italian genius. 
Dante, at first, intended to compose his great poem in Latin : 
Petrarch mentions chivalric poetry with aversion and con- 
tempt : and though he rendered homage to the prevalent 
spirit of his age in his artistic love-songs, he was rather 
carried away by the strong tide of feeling that had set in, 
than impressed with any conviction of the superiority 
characterizing the essence or genius of this poetic innovation. 
Hence, he was content to rest his hopes of fame on a Latin 
panegyric on Scipio, — with which we now seek no nearer 
acquaintance than by name — rather than on those love-songs 
that delight every reader, and will transport his memory 
and name to the latest posterity. This wavering, so natural 
on the soil hallowed by the genius of Borne, between old- 
Latin and new- Italian art and diction, is likewise manifest 
in Boccacio, the third great writer of early Italian literature. 
He injudiciously sought to commemorate the ingenious con- 
ceits of Provencal love-queries and disputes, as also the 
interesting novels of northern Prance, in the too earnest 
style and sober manner of a Livy or a Cicero. Many of his 
works are disfigured by unsuccessful attempts to weave ancient 
mythology into the web of Christian story : and by efforts, 
not a whit more happy, to express purely Christian ideas 
and views in the language and myth of antiquity : in 



198 DANTE. 

one of his chivalric romances he styles God the Father, 
Jupiter — the Son, Apollo — and the Prince of darkness, Pluto. 
The materials for some of his metrical tales are selected from 
the storehouse of the olden mythology, after the fashion of 
mediaeval times, with whose contents he could not fail to be 
more familiar than the majority of German and French 
poets who had preceded him in this course. Indeed, his 
partiality for the antique, and his uniform desire to blend it 
with the poetry of his time, were evinced on almost every 
occasion. 

Of the three early Italian poets, Dante was, unques- 
tionably, at once the most copious, dignified, and inventive : 
his work embraces the whole compass of knowledge open to 
that age, the whole mode of life common to the later medi- 
eval period, all that came within the scope of his own ex- 
perience, nay Heaven and Hell as they appeared to his won- 
drous fancy. There are many similar allegorical poems in the 
middle ages, especially in the Provencal idiom ; but they 
have either perished or sunk into obscurity, so that Dante 
towers above all competitors in solitary grandeur. If 
mediaeval poetry be regarded from an independent point of 
view, apart from ancient theory and art, with which it is by 
no means compatible, and purely on its own historical merits, 
it may be classed under three heads: the chivalric, the 
amatory, and the allegorical. This latter, more particularly, 
has reference to verse of which the entire aim and scope, 
internal arrangement as well as external form, are decidedly 
allegorical, as in the composition of Dante. For in a general 
sense, the allegorical spirit pervades the whole of mediaeval 
poetry, stamping it with a characteristic impress. The 
emphatic embodiment of this spirit in a few leading chi- 
valrous works, was pointed out on the occasion of our examin- 
ing the German version of the Eound Table and St. Graal. 
A difference however obtains ; namely, whilst in this chival- 
rous allegory, mystic meaning is conveyed in representations 
of life, Dante only inserts his representations of life here 
and there in the saloons and galleries of his world-wide 
allegory. Christianity did much to foster an inclination 
for symbolism which permeates the varied channels of 
mediaeval thought, and that must constantly be borne in mind, 
if we would understand aright many conceptions of the 
genius of that age. 



it* 



LITEUABY INFLUENCE OF THE BIBLE. 199 

On attentively considering the influence exercised by the 
Bible over mediaeval as well as more modern literature and 
poetry, and the effects of the Scriptures, viewed as a mere 
literary composition, on language, art, and representation, 
two important elements engage our observation. The first 
of these is complete simplicity of expression, or the absence 
of all artifice. Almost exclusively treating of God and the 
moral nature of man, the language of the Scriptures is 
throughout living and forcible, devoid of metaphysical sub- 
tleties and of those dead ideas and empty abstractions which 
mark the philosophy of all nations — from the Indians and 
Greeks down to modern Europeans — whenever they under- 
take to represent those exalted objects of contemplation, 
God and man, by the light of unassisted reason. This 
philosophy could not escape the hereditary evil of inextri- 
cable confusion of opinions constantly warring with one 
another, and of artificial reasoning, not even when renouncing 
these high questions and great objects it either retired into 
the world of sense or veiled itself under a confession of 
ignorance. Corresponding simplicity, or absence of affec- 
tation also characterizes the poetical portions of Holy "Writ, 
notwithstanding the copiousness of noble and sublime pas- 
sages with which they abound. In point of artistic form 
and development, the simplicity of the sacred poetry of the 
Hebrews can in no wise rival the glories of Grecian genius. 
Hut on the other hand, in those great works the most perfect 
bloom of beauty is almost immediately followed by decay — 
and to the highest perfection of art succeeds most frequently 
an ambitious and luxuriant taste which delights in superfluous 
ornament, and overloaded artifice. Many circumstances in 
connection with man's imagination, his temperament, and 
his constitution, in the propensities and feelings of his 
nature, serve to explain this universal tendency in the 
history of art. Numerous influences vitiate the tender bud 
of beauty before it is unfolded, or reduce its noble simplicity 
when matured to a corrupt affectation. Hence, those 
Christian poets who have handled sacred subjects — Dante, 
Tasso, Milton, Klopstock — if they at all resemble the great 
exemplar to which they are indebted for their materials, do 
so by means of individual features of sublimity rather than 
by an undeviating simplicity and a total abnegation of what 



200 , SYMBOLISM OP THE BIBLE. 

is artificial. The second distinctive quality of the Bible, in 
reference to external form and mode of representation, ex- 
erting an immense influence over modern diction and poesy, 
is the all-pervading typical and symbolic element — not 
only of its poetical but of the didactic and historical books. 
In the case of the Hebrews this symbolism may partially 
be regarded as a national peculiarity, in which the Arabs, 
their nearest of kin, participated. It is not impossible that 
the prohibition concerning graven images of the Divinity 
contributed to cherish this propensity: the imagination 
restricted on one side sought an outlet in another. The 
same results flowed from similar cases among the followers 
of Mahomet. In those portions of Holy Writ in which 
oriental imagery is less dominant, as for instance in the 
books of the New Testament, symbolism nevertheless pre- 
vails. This spirit has, to a great extent, influenced the 
intellectual development of all Christian races. By its 
means, and the allegorical bias thence resulting, the Bible 
stood in much the same relations to mediaeval as well as 
more modern poetry and creative art that Homer did to 
antiquity : constituting, namely, the fountain and rule and 
model of all our images and figures. Of course wherever 
the hidden meaning of emblematical mysteries was not fully 
understood, or where the aim and object, to which symbolism 
was degenerated from pristine purity, the bias referred to 
dwindled down to arbitrary allegory, both fantastic and 
meaningless : inasmuch as a superabundance of ornament 
is easier of attainment than a noble simplicity, artificial 
brilliancy is far more common than the deep gravity of 
Truth. 

Had these two distinctive qualities been universally appre- 
ciated, the Bible would indeed have served as a lofty model 
for all Christian nations, mere generally than the art and 
beautiful forms of the Greeks; and if the Christian spirit 
had uniformly animated and penetrated mankind, that digni- 
fied beauty, which is one with Truth, would have prevailed 
and had an abiding influence on language and representa- 
tion, on science as on art. In its own essence, however, 
Christianity is not a fitting theme for poetry ; with the 
exception of lyric effusions as the direct enunciation of 
feeling. Christianity is not, of itself, either philosophy or 



RELATIONS OF CHRISTIANITY TO ART. 201 

poetry : yet it is rather that which lies at the very founda- 
tion of philosophy, and without which philosophy cannot 
comprehend itself, but is involved in scepticism, unbelief and 
endless perplexities. On the other hand, in its essential 
elements, Christianity transcends all poetry, though its 
spirit rules here as every where else but invisibly, and 
cannot be grasped and represented. 

The relations of Christianity to poetry and representative 
art are of the greatest importance, when we come to inquire 
what relation modern intellectual culture bears to that of 
antiquity, and the ratio of progress made in civilization 
generally. Of what value were poesy and art if they con- 
tinually reproduced ancient shapes and forms from which the 
spirit has departed ? Or, if they pretended to depict pre- 
sent modern life, but confined their descriptions to the face, 
without once fathoming the depths of the views and feeling 
peculiar to modern Europe ? Hence the oft-recurring efforts 
of whole nations and ages, hence the earnest exertions of 
varied genius to glorify the principles of Christianity, not 
only by means of creative art, but likewise in poetry. 

The real answer to the above question seems to me to be 
included in the observation already made : that the indirect 
representation of Christian doctrine and its influence on 
poetry, if not the only genuine process, has, at any rate, 
hitherto constituted the happiest rule of that art. In this 
sense, the chivalrous minstrelsy of the middle ages, which, it 
cannot be denied, never attained to maturity of develop- 
ment any more than Gothic architecture, deserves to be 
considered as a real Christian heroic poetry ; for the very 
features that distinguish it from the heroic poetry of other 
nations and ruder ages, are in their nature and origin essen- 
tially Christian. This verse is, throughout, suggestive of 
northern primeval reminiscences : the shapes that flit before 
the reader's imagination are the shapes commemorated in 
hero-bands of the olden time, transfigured by the pre- 
dominant feeling and faith of a love which gives new beauty 
and meaning to the wildest play of the imagination. But let 
the poet try to seize directly on the mysteries of Christianity, 
and they will appear beyond his reach, and will elude his 
grasp. At least, no attempt of this sort has as yet succeeded 
in removing the feeling of discord, however great the talents 



202 DANTE. 

employed. "What I have here advanced is no less applicable 
to the first of the great Christian bards — to Dante — than to 
his later successors, Tasso, Milton, and Klopstock. Beyond 
all others, Dante succeeded in presenting to our view 
heavenly visions and Paradisaic raptures. Yet it must be 
admitted that poetry and Christianity are not harmoniously 
wedded in his poem, of which some passages do not rise 
higher than didactic theology. Though his genius was cast 
in a poetic mould, and his imagination was constitutionally 
fitted for the boldest nights, yet the prevalent doctrine of 
the schoolmen exerted a great influence over this extraor- 
dinary spirit. His unique work is, otherwise, rich and 
vivid in detail ; in the circuit of the three worlds which he 
undertakes to describe — of darkness, purification and perfect 
light — he exhibits to our gaze a series of manifold characters 
and personages, graphically sketched, in the most varied 
situations : beginning with the lowest abyss of moral infamy 
and irretrievable agony, and proceeding step by step through 
the long vista of suffering and hope, until he leads the way 
to the realms of highest glory. Whosoever has learnt to 
comprehend his genius, his singular views and aim, and the 
closely-linked connection of his work, will not fail to discover 
the harmony that reigns throughout ; this work will appear 
unrivalled, not only for richness of invention and originality 
of plan, but for the power and perseverance with which the poet 
lias carried it out ; it is a defect that the links of connection 
and simplicity of treatment are not at once clearly apparent, 
but that a preparatory initiation into a vast extent of various 
knowledge is necessary in order to understand the poem, 
either as a whole or in detail. To his contemporaries, and 
to the succeeding generation, his geography and astronomy 
did not appear so strange as they do to us ; the various allu- 
sions to Florentine history were more easily understood, and 
even the philosophy of Dante was the philosophy of the age. 
Yet, with all these advantages, a commentary was found to 
be indispensable to them ; and thus the greatest and most 
truly national Italian bard never, on the whole, became the 
popular poet of his country. For some generations, indeed, 
his verse, like that of a second Homer, was made a text- 
book for critical comment and elucidation by individuals 
appointed for that purpose in his native town ; but now only 



te . 



DANTE. 203 

isolated passages, selected from the body of his work, have 
maintained unimpaired vitality. No Italian poet approaches 
him in grand delineation of character and of the passions — 
no poet has so powerfully seized the Italian spirit or depicted 
it so truthfully. The sole objection that can be raised, on 
this head, is the general harshness of Ghibelline feeling he 
displays. The Ghibellines, who lived in the latter half of 
the middle ages, and who aspired to unbounded worldly 
supremacy, were marked by a spirit of intolerant severity, 
of fierce hostility — such as can scarcely be realized but by a 
careful examination of the historic memorials of that time. 
Later ages, down to our own personal experience, have had 
their Ghibellines, who staked all the hopes of humanity on 
the dominion of the sword, ignoring the power of the 
Invisible Being, which is, nevertheless, sure to assert itself 
at the appointed season. But these Ghibellines of an over- 
refined age are more conspicuous for the submissive pliancy 
with which they are ready to accept any stamp impressed 
upon them by superior might — a might that rises in their 
estimation and regard in proportion as it maintains itself in 
spite of disturbing influences. Inflamed with equal lust of 
domination, the mediaeval Ghibellines were too generally 
marked by haughty feeling and heroic energy ; the com- 
batants were too well matched to admit of similar results. 
A terrible anarchy, a general ferment of violence and con- 
fusion ensued, without any symptoms of that exhaustion 
which is not only the consequence, but the inviting oppor- 
tunity and co-operating cause of despotism. This Ghibelline 
asperity, then, cannot but be imputed as a fault to Dante, 
softeu ed down, no doubt, and even hidden here and there by 
the varied charms of melody and fancy, yet not without an 
influence on the internal beauty and pathos of his poetry. 

These are the chief blemishes which, notwithstanding his 
singular excellence, must be noted in the greatest of all 
Christian and Florentine bards. 

I have already adverted to the position held by Petrarch, 
on the occasion of my sketching, in a general manner, the 
Love-songs of various countries, and referring to the peculiar 
artistic perfection of his muse. His songs are to be classed 
with this species of composition, and should be compared 
with those of Spain or Germany to be duly comprehended. 



204 PETBAKCH. 

On instituting a comparative examination, Petrarch's especial 
characteristic will be found to consist in a more artistic 
spiritual Platonism than is evinced by any other Love-poet of 
the middle ages. Some of his commentators have gone so 
far as to contend that his Laura was no historic personage 
at all, but a mere personification of his ideal fancy. This, in 
turn, has been stoutly and authoritatively denied ; proofs 
have been adduced from the church registers not only of her 
actual existence, but also of her marriage and her numerous 
family ; and in a manner still more agreeable, namely, from 
the lovely portrait of her, executed by Memmi, in the 
Petrarch collection at Florence. The verse of Petrarch is 
not deficient in that allegorical spirit which is so generally 
characteristic of mediaeval minstrelsy. In metrical skill, as 
also in the cultivation of his native idiom, he is undoubtedly 
entitled to be ranked among the foremost bards who com- 
posed in any of the Eomanic tongues. 

The services that Petrarch rendered to Italian poesy were 
equalled by the efforts of Boccacio to perfect the structure 
of prose ; yet he never entirely rid it of long complicated 
sentences, from which Macchiavelli alone is wholly free. 

These three Florentine poets — Dante, Petrarch, Boccacio 
— form an older, severer school of Western poetry, in which 
allegory was a predominant principle. Each of them had, 
respectively, been the pioneer in a new direction, had treated 
the art of representation in a manner peculiar to his own 
genius. Dante made the loftiest allegory subservient to 
depicting comprehensive visions and the whole fulness of 
Christian emblems. Petrarch, in addition to this allegorical 
system, in which he is far inferior to his great prototype, 
created a new kind of lyric poesy ; and Boccacio struck out 
a novel path of description in his romances, purely prosaic, or 
interspersed with poetry. In Boccacio, an allegorical leaning 
is more particularly evident in his longer compositions ; 
from a similarly mistaken purpose, he endeavoured to revive 
pagan theology, and reconstruct it for Christian uses, as 
Dante had attempted to do in several passages of his great 
poem. All three had numerous imitators, though Dante, 
unique in manner, was by no means calculated to aftord a 
model for successful imitation ; whilst Petrarch's lyrics, and 
Boccacio's descriptions, could not fail to lose their piquant 



PULCI, ARIOSTO, AND BOIAEDO. 205 

character by frequent repetition. Late in the fifteenth cen- 
tury, when the tribe of copyists and servile followers had 
s:.r:siied themselves that no more laurels were to be gained 
in this direction, the Italians decided upon venturing into 
the domains of chivalrous poesy, which Boccacio had previ- 
ouslv endeavoured to transplant to the regions of Greek 
mythology and Trojan fable. Pulci, the Florentine, was the 
first well-known predecessor of Ariosto. The first impres- 
sion that is formed of one accustomed to sing his rhapsodies 
in the courtly halls of the Medici is naturally most favour- 
able ; but his muse does not correspond to such sanguine 
expectations: jest and wit are made to conceal the deficien- 
cies of poetry, and to cover the somewhat ludicrous connec- 
tion of improbable and unmeaning fictions. It is difficult 
to determine what portion of his narrative is intended to be 
sober earnest, and what parody ; the wit is so exclusively 
local and Florentine, that it is all but unintelligible to us at 
the present day ; the whole eminently proves that, at this 
time, the real romantic element was utterly foreign to Italian 
tastes. Boiardo, the next of Ariosto's predecessors, is far 
more happy in his efforts ; it was his incomplete production 
that Ariosto was so desirous of finishing, though the only 
result of his good offices has been to cast Boiardo into the 
cold shade of oblivion. The high reputation of Ariosto, in 
point of inventive fulness and fancy, materially suffers when 
we learn the sources whence he drew his inspiration. His 
immediate predecessor furnished him with that rich store of 
invention and narrative which he showers on the reader with 
such lavish profusion ; nay, even his picturesque style is not 
his own. His only merit, indeed, consists in evincing greater 
care, and in manifesting superior facility and grace of metri- 
cal diction. Perhaps, too, he has the merit of knowing how 
to make a happy use of some passages from the Odyssey and 
Ovid, or front other ancient poets. 

It is worthy of observation that the chivalrous poetry of 
Italy did not attain to its full bloom in Florence, but in 
Lombardy, where German mediaeval architecture first ob- 
tained a permanent footing, and where the style of Painting 
was more akin to the G-erman, or at least not so dissimilar 
as at Florence or Eome. It is only necessary to take a 
glance at the constitution of the principal states of older 



20G ITALIAN POETRY. 

Italy, to feel the cogency of those reasons that prevented 
a parallel extension of the spirit of chivalry, or the exertion 
of its influence on morals or on poetry, with the rest of the 
civilized West. In Florence, the national spirit was, from an 
early period quite democratic : the attention of the Venetians 
was devoted to commercial pursuits, whilst their manners 
and arts were copied from those of the East, or formed 
much more after the modern Greek fashion than was the 
case in the "West generally. In Naples, the spirit of chi- 
valry had not been altogether extinguished since the time of 
the Normans, but having been subjected to the rule of 
foreign potentates and unsettled by frequent dynastic 
changes, as well as other impeding causes, Naples participated 
but little in the intellectual development of northern Italy. 
Rome, the central seat of the Church, was occupied with 
her own interests, and what atteDtion she bestowed on 
artistic matters was turned to the encouragement of the 
arts of architecture, sculpture, and painting, as being most 
conducive to ecclesiastical splendour, rather than to poetry. 
If at any time her national reminiscences were awakened, 
they took a different direction and lost themselves in futile 
schemes for the regeneration of Rome in her early Repub- 
lican glory; schemes fondly cherished by Rienzi, and in 
which Petrarch himself took part and sympathized. 

These, then, are among the reasons why the poetry of 
Italy inclined upon the whole, so decidedly to the spirit of 
the antique and to philosophy, and was, comparatively, little 
impressed with the genius of chivalry. Though, on account 
of its consummate excellence, it exercised considerable in- 
fluence over other nations, and became, as it were, the 
common property of civilized Europe. 

The pictorial achievements of Italy in the fifteenth cen- 
tury were incomparably more splendid then her poetic 
efforts ; indeed, the art of painting may be said to have 
reached its greatest perfection at this time, and continued to 
bloom until the middle of the sixteenth century. Next to 
the revival of ancient literature ; * art most contributed 

* This evidently refers to monastic labours, of which Signer Giudici (in his 
'♦History of Italian Literature") thus eloquently speaks: — " In secluded 
retreats and amidst the solemn repose of the monastery, companies of 
pious and learned men guarded the lamp of human knowledge, whose 
light was destined thenceforth never to be extinguished. In those 



ITALIAN PAINTINOL 207 

t 

to render the age — which is commonly called the age of the 
Medici or of Leo X — illustrious. It cannot be disputed 
that, at a much earlier period than this, individual painters 
had studied the artistic remains of old classic days, for the 
purposes of severer drawing and more accurate knowledge 
of the human figure ; and had derived loftier ideas of form 
and beauty from close study of the antique. But, taken as 
a whole, there was no imitation of the antique, even among 
those painters whose familiarity with ancient science was 
most extensive, though this same kuowledge was no common 
endowment, and, for the most part, denied to the foremost 
votaries of art. When such imitation began to spread, as 
it did during the sixteenth century, genuine art was on the 
wane. At its culminating point of perfection, the genius of 
pictorial art was thoroughly new and of peculiar vigour : 
sometimes eminently Christian, intent upon the ideas of 
Christianity ; at other times more particularly national and 
Italian : in its happiest master-pieces characterized by both 
of those features in equal degree. Therefore, painting 
reached a much higher pitch of grandeur at this time than 
poetry : for what contemporary bard can compare with 
Raphael ? We look in vain for a combination of a Tasso 
with a Dante, in one and the same genius. 

The growth of the poetic mind in Italy, was seldom dis- 
tinguished by a happy union of grace with profundity, 
neither was it, at any stage of progress, long free from 
servile imitation. After the revival of a taste for ancient 
literature and the general diffusion of names hitherto 
strangers to popular regard, this country first set the rest 
of Europe the unfortunate example of copying the form of 
the antique in compositions of a similar import. Originality 
of genius was itself not always strong enough to make head 
against this pernicious influence. Camoens and Tasso, the 
greatest of modern epic bards, would have developed them* 
selves with far more power, liberty, and beauty if they had 
been free from Virgilian shackles which cramped their genius 
and led them astray. But there was yet another mode in 

sanctuaries of literature, as well as of religion, the monks were obliged, 
by the rules of their order, to spend a portion of every day in copying- 
of manuscripts, and thus innumerable inestimable works were preserved 
and transmitted to posterity." — Transl. note. 



208 INJUKIOTTS USE OF THE LATIN. 

which the baneful effects of the antique were manifest with 
respect to poetry and language. The frequent adoption of 
Latin for the purposes of composition threatened to absorb 
the vernacular. The fatal example extended to other climes : 
Germany, where the study of classical literature had been 
carried on with similar zeal, was the greatest sufferer, and 
it was not discovered till too late that no poetry can nourish 
in a dead language. In Maximilian's time none but Latin 
poets were crowned with Parnassian bays : strange to say, 
even the drama pointed its moral in that idiom, though the 
Emperor himself was passionately fond of his native tongue.* 
The visible degeneracy of the German language, as contrasted 
with its earlier bloom, is too often ascribed to the civil wars 
and contentions that raged in the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries. These, no doubt, tended to increase the evil : 
but inasmuch as symptoms of decay began to manifest them- 
selves previous to the Reformation, and in the case of writers 
whose style had been formed at an earlier period, the in- 
ference seems inevitable : namely, that the vernacular was 
systematically sacrificed to the Latin language. The results 
were more sensibly and painfully evident in Germany than 
in Italy ; for the former had not yet arrived at mature con- 
sistency and regularity as a whole : whilst the great Floren- 
tine masters of the fourteenth century had bequeathed that 
country a standard of their Dative language which none of 
the modern Latin writers could set aside. 

The fault of all this must not be placed to the account 
of ancient literature, but to the abuse of it. The salutary 
extension of historic as well as every kind of human science 
in the fifteenth century, an acquaintance with the splendid 
memorials of art and intellect, these things in themselves, 
were an inestimable benefit. But we should be in error if we 
supposed that this rich harvest of knowledge was every 
where productive of wholesome fruits without any tares: 
or that, when gathered, the crop was uniformly turned to 
so advantageous an account as we should now desire and 
expect. In this respect the spirit of the modern inhabitants 

* In his " Lectures on Modern History " Schlegel says of this prince : — 
"He composed several works, and selected moreover the German language, 
although he was versed in all the other tongues then current in Europe, 
and, as a man of business, was familiar with Latin." — Transl. note. 



THE FIFTEENTH CENTUBY. 209 

of Europe exhibits traces of greater similarity to former 
times than is commonly believed. All of them evince an 
equally passionate curiosity, a restless activity, prompting 
them to seize, with rude grasp, on acquisitions, mental or 
physical, thatpromised for a time to lend a prominent interest 
to some peculiar department of social organization : thereby 
endangering the moral equilibrium, and inviting sudden and 
momentous changes involving revolutions, with all their 
train of horrid and destructive consequences. Thus in the 
time of the Crusades, when near contact with the East was 
the means of introducing Arab lore,* when the philosophy of 
Aristotle became dominant, and various nations learned to 
be on familiar terms with each other, intellectual activity 
all at once received an incredible impetus, and a whole world 
of new ideas was set in motion. But it is now universally 
admitted that the mighty impulse which mental activity 
received in the thirteenth century was not so beneficially 
applied as might have been wished. It called forth, generally 
speaking, a mere sectarian spirit, which in the ranks of the 
school-men, assumed a barbaric form, and was not long in 
manifesting its destructive efforts in the Church, the state, 
and civil life. Of all the suddenly enriched and intellec- 
tually fruitful periods of European History, the fifteenth 
century is perhaps the most splendid. It was then that 
the systematic use of the compass assisted maritime dis- 
coveries, led the way to India and America, opening up 
to Man — who may be said to have now come of age — 
a distinct and comprehensive view of the earth his dwelling- 
place. In connection, be it remembered, with the stimulus 
given to his mind by the revival of ancient literature, and 
the invention of printing : which, at first and in its appli- 
ances, can have fallen but little short of the miraculous in 
general estimation. But even here, as I shall be able to 
shew by and bye, the observations I have made respecting 
the immediate operation of great discoveries is not out of 
place. The third important revolution in the domains 
of science and in the direction of the modern European 

* " Next to the influence which the further development of chivalry 
exercised upon the constitution of Europe, the effects of the Crusades 
upon commerce, its extension, and direction, is one of the most visible 
and striking-."— Schlegel's Lect. on Mod. Hist.— Transl. note. 

V 



210 THE FIFTEENTH CENTTJKY. 

spirit is nearer our own times. The onward strides of 
mathematics and physics in the seventeenth century, 
progressing in still greater ratio during the eighteenth, 
gave so great an extension to mechanical and technical 
facilities of every description as materially to alter the 
economic arrangements of the human race. "Who is there 
that would pretend to deny the intrinsic excellence of these 
sciences, or the elevating tendency they have to promote 
the sovereignty of man over matter and the world of sense — 
a sovereignty entirely harmonizing with his original dignity 
and destiny ? But was this supremacy over matter com- 
bined with self-control ? Did the system of thought arising 
out of physical and mathematical investigation give a happy 
and normal tone to social morality ? The consequences of 
this mode of thinking and the philosophy to which it gave 
rise on religion and morals, on political and common life, 
have been so clearly developed, that they are now generally 
acknowledged to have been unfortunate and hurtful, and in a 
short time, no difference of opinion will exist respecting them. 
I return to the fifteenth century. I have already mentioned 
the injury which the exclusive partiality for the literature 
and language of antiquity inflicted, in checking the pro- 
gress ot* the vernacular language, and of the poetry of mo- 
dern times. We need be the less surprised at the many 
fluctuations and aberrations of this period, when we observe 
that the history of modern intellect presents scarcely anything 
else than a constant struggle between the old and foreign — 
which is indispensable as far as knowledge and form are con- 
cerned — and the new, the peculiar, and the national, which 
latter must be the vital spirit of all living, effective, national 
literature and poetry. It is by no means improbable that 
some of the modern Latinists of the fifteenth century, in 
Italy, were actuated by a desire altogether to supplant the 
vulgar tongue, and to re-establish the language of ancient 
Home. For not only were the olden mythology and idiom 
again introduced with applications singularly inapposite to 
Christian themes : for instance, it was deemed more elegant 
to substitute such an expression as "the gods," in lieu of 
the singular number which we usually employ in speaking 
of the Supreme Being : but the very usages and arrange- 
ments of ordinary life were fashioned after the model of pa- 



MACCHIAYELLI. 211 

ganism, or we might say, aped, with fanatical ardour. So 
that it can hardly be doubted, that it was more than a passing 
fancy on the part of some to reinaugurate the religious 
superstitions of ancient times. There is, however, no 
necessity to dwell on such extravagancies as these, which 
could never be realized. More importance, for obvious 
reasons, is to be attached to the revival of old Eoman ideas 
in the person of Macchiavelli, who nourished at this time. 
In style and historic skill he is unique, worthy of the first 
rank of Italian, and, indeed, of modern prose writers 
generally, and fairly comparable to the first historians of 
antiquity. With the energy, simplicity, and straight-for- 
wardness of Csesar he joins the profound reflection of Taci- 
tus, and is more lucid than the latter. He has taken no one 
writer as a model, but saturated with the essential spirit of 
classical antiquity, he seems to have made it his second na- 
ture to employ the forcible, animated, and appropriate ex- 
pressions of the most brilliant ancient writers. The form 
of representation would seem never to have cost him any 
trouble, his constant care being directed to the thought. 
But how are we to justify, or even familiarly illustrate the 
doctrines of that state-policy which he was at such pains to 
propagate, and which met with a success all too complete ? 
The ideal standard of a ruthless tyrant which he sets up, as 
it were, for the instruction of sovereign rulers has been 
sought to be palliated on the plea of his intention to depict, 
in graphic colouring, the political degradation of his age and 
country.* But, though it has been satisfactorily ascertained 
that Macchiavelli was both a republican and a glowing patriot, 
this interpretation will not suffice to vindicate his memory 
from grave imputations. It may, perhaps, be more correct to 
seek the explanation in hispatriotism, taken in connection with 
his other political views and principles. It is as if he had 
tacitly wished contemporary aristocracy to infer that, in order 
to liberate Italy, the self-same means must be adopted that had 
contributed to enslave her, of however impure or desperate 

* Professor Gervinus, in his " Introduction to the History of the Nine- 
teenth Century," says : — To Macchiavelli, Ferdinand the Catholic appeared 
the living type of a prince of the new school, such as his austere judgment 
led him to declare to be the necessary remedy for the times. — 'fraud, 
note. 



212 MACCHIAYELLI. 

a nature they might be ; that the foe to liberty must be 
foiled by his own weapons ; that all measures are lawful in 
so sacred a cause. The opinion he entertained of foreigners 
may be learnt from the extremely curt yet remarkable con- 
trast which he institutes between French and German cha- 
racter. With wondrous sagacity he observes that the Ger- 
mans, as a nation, are not nearly so powerful as they are 
generally supposed to be, whilst the dominion of French 
monarchy is represented as tremendous and ever increasing. 
This pithy declaration is anything but flattering : for by it 
he charges the one with mendacious insincerity, native and 
constitutional : and alleges of the other, that the same un- 
bounded love of freedom, which, in its unrestrained career, 
had already unsettled the empire, by means of internal dis- 
sension and tumult, would in time destroy its independent 
vigour and cause its dissolution. 

Such was his opinion of other nations, and when we con- 
sider the state of Italy at that time, more particularly his 
native city, we cannot altogether blame him. But his prin- 
ciples, relative to the propriety of combatting the most formi- 
dable foes of his country, those within the walls, by means 
of weapons similar to their own, cannot, for a moment, ad- 
mit of justification. For the desperate condition of the 
state was not brought on by the baseness or the guilt of her 
tyrants, so much as by the extensive diffusion of noxious 
principles and tendencies, which gave impunity to these 
acts. * 

The most startling peculiarity in Macchiavelli remains to 
be considered : it does not consist in his axiom, so often 
quoted and refuted, that the end sanctions the means ; but 
rather in his endeavours to institute a political system, in 
the heart of modern Christian Europe, of such an import 
and general spirit as totally to ignore Christianity, nay, the 
very existence of God and retributive justice. Though this 
Christianity had hitherto been commonly regarded as the 
hallowing medium of brotherhood, the bond of union, 
among the several states of Europe. The recognized right 
of sovereigns to rule over their subjects was in proportion 
to their obedience to the will of God : on this supposition 
alone their supremacy was vindicated. All principalities, 
jurisdictions, aud rights, were still based on the invisible 



MACCHIAVELLI. 213 

groundwork of the Church. Now of all this state-economy 
Macchiavelli takes not the slightest notice : not only does he 
write in the true spirit of Paganism, but he thinks so like- 
wise, and in the most emphatic manner. Just as the power 
of ancient Rome was founded, in the main, on violence and 
fraud, and justice was regarded as superfluous or an ornament 
of no intrinsic value : so Macchiavelli regards force and in- 
telligence as the most potent levers of state-machinery. 
The idea of justice is altogether left out of the question : 
neither ought this to amaze us, seeing that all his views of 
the mechanism regulating the policy of states and people 
are founded on his conceptions of force and intelligence, 
without the slightest reference to God. As surely as honour 
cannot exist in the absence of virtue, so impracticable is 
human justice without a firm belief in the Almighty : that 
is, other than a mere external form and hypocritical cloak to 
conceal the inner wickedness of the heart, the grasping 
covetousness of fraud and violence. With disbelief in God 
and his dispensations towards man, every other kind of scep- 
ticism in things invisible to sense is necessarily joined. But 
it is the invisible on which the visible rests, and as the im- 
material soul is the life of the body, so the idea of God is 
the vivifying principle of nations and of states. Let this 
animating principle be once withdrawn, and the whole dis- 
solves and becomes an inert ponderous mass. Or if any 
vitality be left in individual nations, it is a fermenting 
energy that preys upon all within, scattering death and 
destruction over external objects. As soon as God and 
Justice are forgotten by states, Anarchy and Despotism, 
those monsters of darkness, rise from their gloomy abodes, 
and occupy the deserted place of Justice. 

It should not be supposed that Macchiavelli is to be held 
responsible for that political dissolution of which alarming 
phenomena manifested themselves with increasing virulence, 
notwithstanding the manly efforts of various upright and 
Christian rulers to oppose its progress. For this no indi- 
vidual is solely accountable : these evils had struck too deep 
a root. Yet whosoever reduces existing evil to definite and 
applicable principles, systematizes and extends its operation, 
and on this account Macchiavelli' s policy undeniably had a 
disastrous and pernicious influence on succeeding genera- 
tions. 



214 DISCOYEEIES OF THE FIFTEENTH CEN1URY. 

The two great discoveries of the fifteenth century, the art 
of printiDg and the use of the compass, which latter, though 
of earlier date, was not applied with any beneficial results 
until the time of Columbus, were accompauied by some 
others of equal importance : the use of gunpowder and that 
of paper. Both of these, too, are of much earlier date, but 
their general application was only marked by momentous 
results in that age. These wonderful inventions have, in the 
aggregate, very materially altered the aspect of human so- 
ciety. Much in the same way as some nations of primitive 
history were separated from the savage tribes who were 
ignorant of the instruments of connection between man and 
the earth ; as, for instance, the use of iron for civil and war- 
like purposes, the employment of written characters, and a 
metallic currency, which form the cement of social union, 
points of contact bridging remote tribes and groups of 
mankind, the past with the present, so the invention of 
printing and the use of the magnetic needle constituted, as 
it were, a chasm that cleft asunder the old w T orld from the 
new. 

These discoveries furnish the best proof of the fact, that 
more depends upon the use which is made of important gifts 
than on the gifts themselves. The compass was within reach 
of many other nations, yet they neither circumnavigated the 
earth nor discovered America. Printing and paper have 
long been employed by the Chinese in the manufacture of 
gazettes, bills, and visiting cards ; but their national genius 
has in no way been benefited by the action of this wonderful 
machinery. 

Gunpowder was looked upon as a perilous and hurtful 
contrivance, even in those periods in which it came into 
common use. Not only did poets, like Ariosto, inveigh 
against it as an unlucky invention, calculated to undermine 
personal bravery and sap the foundations of chivalry: states- 
men and soldiers concurred in this view, and uttered similar 
lamentations. But such apprehensions as these were, at the 
least, ill-founded: real courage will find free scope for its 
activity in any sphere. Under new phases, the modern art 
of warfare has produced heroes who will bear comparison 
with the greatest captains of pagan or chivalrous days. But, 
upon the whole, an invention expanding the limits as well as 



INYiENTIOy or PAPEE. 215 

accelerating the frightful ravages of war, systematizing, so 
to speak, the agency by which mankind decimate their 
species, is not to be classed with the happiest features of 
modern improvement. I will only adduce a single example, 
drawn from the first era of its practical application. With- 
out the medium of gunpowder, the conquest of America, 
that followed hard upon the heels of its discovery, would 
not have been marked by those scenes of desolation, those 
barbarous atrocities, that brand the historic page.* In 
this respect, the demon of destruction would seem to have 
directed and impressed the first impulses of a wonderful 
discovery. 

Regarding the use of 'paper, likewise, reasonable doubt 
may be entertained if the operations of printing have con- 
ferred those advantages on the world which might have been 
expected, by the dissemination of knowledge and the pro- 
motion of intellectual development ; or if injurious conse- 
quences, with tainting influence, have not in many cases 
resulted. During periods of anarchy and revolution, this 
facile medium of sedition and inflammatory excitement may 
be said to have partaken of the destructive character of gun- 
powder. The introduction of a rarer and costlier material 
might have kept the art of printing more true to its primary 
purpose, namely, that of perpetuating the genuine memorials 
of history, art, and science ; whilst now, the most important 
records of civilization are too frequently neglected for the 
circulation of ephemeral, flippant productions. A second 
deluge of impurity has set in ; the dignity of language has 
been degraded into buffoonery ; a sea of superficial fancies 



* For a detailed account of the cruelties perpetrated by the Spaniards 
in Peru, the reader is referred to the well-known pages of Prescott and 
Robertson. Schlegel's views on the advantages of gunpowder will be 
appreciated by those theorists who believe in the possibility of universal 
peace on earth. The Translator ventures, deferentially, to entertain an 
opposite opinion, even in the face of such high authority. The greater the 
economy of punishment in war, the more is that necessarily likely to 0e 
mitigated. If State policy were less tortuous, gunpowder would not be 
in such frequent requisition. With regard to many of the commercial 
adaptations of the material in question (blasting, &c), it would be difficult 
to procure a substitute equally convenient in all respects. — Transl. note. 



216 LITERATURE OE NORTHERN EUROPE. 

is freighted with puerile conceits, and the spirit of the age 
is ever and anon in danger of losing the compass of 
Truth.* 



LECTUKE X. 

Literature oe the Northern and Eastern Nations oe 
Europe. — Scholastic Divinity and German Mysti- 
cism oe the Middle Ages. 

My representations of modern European development 
have hitherto included only the nations of the South and 
West, the Germans, and those countries in which the Eo- 
manic dialects were adopted : Italy, France, Spain, and 
England. The literature of these lands is indisputably the 
most remarkable and important, both from its intrinsic 
merits and wide-spread influence. It would, however, be 
more in accordance with my own wishes, as well as my con- 
ceptions of a complete history of literature framed in a 
liberal spirit, to bring the principal nations of the North and 
East within the limits of my undertaking. Every indepen- 
dent people, of adequate consequence, have a right, too 
sacred to be disallowed, to the possession of a literature 
eminently and peculiarly their own ; and it is a mark of the 
grossest tyranny to suppress the idiom of a country, or to 
wish to check its advances in intellectual culture. It is a 
common prejudice to suppose that certain neglected or ob- 
scure languages are not susceptible of greater improvement 
and higher perfection. Doubtless, some idioms are, to a 
certain extent, antagonistic to poetry, and extremely un- 
favourable to its impressions ; but none are so constituted 
as not to admit of being turned to good and serviceable 

* It is to be feared that our author has here advanced an unguarded 
statement: dormitat Homerus may be said of him. Surely the manifold 
advantages of paper — the cheaper the better— are not counterbalanced by 
the abuses named! The weapons of anarchy are harmless if they have 
no keener edge. The literature of the 18th century, when paper was 
dearer, teemed with impurities. In fact, the ahsence of impurity was the 
exception rather than the rule. — Translator's note. 



THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 217 

prose, suited alike to the exigencies of daily life and the re- 
quirements of ordinary science. If it be argued that the 
literature of a comparatively insignificant country can have 
exercised little direct influence on others, we should be dis- 
posed to answer, that the history of its intellectual develop- 
ment in proportion to its prosperity, its fortunes and its 
history, cannot but be very interesting and instructive. 
Though I am stating the conditions of a complete history 
of literature, I cannot hope to fulfil them myself. In this 
department of criticism, more perhaps than in any other, it 
is undesirable to trust to the conclusions of others without 
investigating the circumstances that have led them to arrive 
at the same : but to do this effectually, an acquaintance, if 
not familiarity, with the several European idioms is indis- 
pensable. Limiting myself to general observations, I would 
direct attention to the state of collective Europe. The six- 
teenth century, constituting as it does a partition wall which 
separates the middle ages from our own times, seems pecu- 
liarly suitable to a general survey like this. In reference to 
intrinsic merits and their influence on other nations, the 
Romanic tongues had a decided advantage and superiority. 
Their close affinity to one another, and resemblance to their 
mother-tongue the Latin, which was at one time common to 
the whole Christian West, rendered the facilities of acquiring 
them greater than in the case of any language radically dif- 
ferent. On this account, long before the effects were felt 
of commercial or political inducements, they were more ex- 
tensively diffused than German and the other languages of 
the north and east of Europe. Spain, indeed, never came 
into very close communion with the north or west, from 
which she seemed severed not more by geographical position 
than by the genius of her polity, her customs, and her intel- 
lectual efforts. More justice than was at one time wont has 
of late been accorded to the excellence of Spanish literature 
and language. But so much of former prejudice still exists 
as to restrict the consideration and regard of critics to the 
beauty of her poetry, whilst it is an incontrovertible fact, 
that of all Eomanic idioms, this was the one in which prose 
attained to a maturity at once earliest and fullest. Portu- 
guese prose was, at an early period, equally soft and agree- 
able with the Spanish : but the latter speedily outstripped 



218 SPAIN AND GERMANY. 

her sister-dialect in copiousness as well as nice distinction of 
expression. With the exception of Macchiavelli, Italy can 
boast of no great prose writer in the departments of practical 
knowledge or political science. The earlier prose attempts 
in other Romanic tongues are, for the most part, destitute 
of form and shape. In France and England prose was not 
sufficiently developed for the purposes of practical applica- 
tion and of political eloquence until the seventeenth cen- 
tury; and its use was more particularly confined to the 
metropolis and the higher classes of society. In Spain the 
vernacular was, from an early period, adopted in legislation 
and other business of importance. The very isolation of that 
country from the rest of Europe may have materially con- 
tributed to an accelerated development of the language: 
rich as it is in well-written historical works, and in a manly 
eloquence that has survived to our own day: an eloquence, 
moreover, impressed with the noblest characteristics of fiery 
genius, and occasionally interspersed with appropriate wit 
and caustic sarcasm. In the higher philosophy Spain has 
had fewer names of note than Italy or Germany : indeed, 
she cannot boast of a single writer claiming the first dis- 
tinction in philosophic annals. 

The German, being a language by itself, was not only 
much more difficult of acquisition than the Romanic idioms, 
it was necessarily less widely disseminated than these : hence 
the literature and intellectual progress of Germany were 
frequently misrepresented, because not understood, by na- 
tions ignorant of the language. Nevertheless, I feel fully able 
to justify the position which I have assigned to that country 
in this history of literature. Notwithstanding the restricted 
diffusion of the German language, the profound inquirer 
into the antiquities of the south and west will find it neces- 
sary, at intervals, to retrace his steps to German sources. 
Together with the framework of German constitution, and 
the economy of daily life, much of the Germanic spirit, too, 
was infused into the polity and systems of foreign nations. 
, It is not saying too much to maintain that no acquaintance 
with mediaeval history can be complete, which does not em- 
brace a comprehensive survey of the genius and language of 
Germany. Just as France and England were the foremost 
powers, both in politics and in literature, of the seventeenth 



THE SCASDI^AYIANS. 219 

and eighteenth centuries, so Italy and Germany were the 
sanctuaries of all civilization during the middle ages. The 
greatest and most pregnant invention of the fifteenth cen- 
tury — the art of printing — was of German origin ; from the 
same source proceeded those religious convulsions in the six- 
teenth century, which shook the fabric of a mighty institu- 
tion to its very centre, and gave a new direction and fresh 
impulse to the energies of Christian Europe. If the German 
language be not, as yet, equally adapted with English and 
Ereuch, to the intercourse of the social circle, to the practical 
business of life, to protocols, and political eloquence, on the 
other hand, like Italian, against which a similar charge has 
been brought, it contains elements most favourable to poetry. 
Since the decline of ancient Greek, no other tongue can 
compete with German in copiousness and singular adaptation 
to the expression of loftier philosophic truths. In the imi- 
tative arts, whilst most of the other highly civilized nations 
took scarcely any important part, Germany is second only 
to Italy. She was slow, indeed, in manifesting her productive 
power as regards modern literature, since the revolutions of 
the sixteenth century and first half of the seventeenth,a season 
during which a great portion of the rest of Europe was ex- 
tremely prolific : yet even this may not have operated to her 
prejudice. It may reasonably be expected that in the domains 
of history and philosophy, late writers possess obvious ad- 
vantages over their predecessors. The premature literary 
exertions of some countries were followed by exhaustion 
and intellectual prostration during the latter half of the 
eighteenth century : whilst Germany exhibited remarkable 
fertility. Though individual defects are still visible, the 
time is not very far distant when a knowledge of German 
language and literature will be recognized as an inevitable 
necessity by the cultivated mind of foreign nations. 

Of the northern and easternmost nations, tbe Scandina- 
vians took the greatest share in the mental growth of the 
west during the middle ages. I have previously endeavoured 
to convey some idea of the influence they exercised on 
European poetry, on the occasion of my adverting to the 
migratory Northmen or JSormans. They joined in the 
Crusades, and accordingly participated in the benefits con- 
nected with them, and their effects on the imagination and 



220 SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 

intellect generally. Numbers of enterprising Icelanders 
traversed every part of Europe for the purposes of literary 
discovery : and, to gratify the longings of curiosity, they ex- 
plored all known sources of knowledge and fiction. In their 
Edda they possessed the oldest genuine record of the poetry 
of the Germanic races, and of the whole mediaeval period ; 
subsequently they imported into their country the Christian 
chivalric epics of the south of Europe. In some of these, 
more especially in German heroics, they were not a little 
surprised to find a striking similarity to their own northern 
legends with shapes that, here and there, they recognized as 
familiar to their memory. These objects of popular interest 
were then remodelled in varied form and manner ; and, taken 
in connection with Gothic and German epics of the same 
period, they constitute, as it were, a separate northern 
school in the poetry of the West; a school that presents 
many features differing from the romantic spirit and southern 
fancy of the Latin races. All the impressions of pagan and 
northern descent in these Scandinavian fictions, marvellous 
creations, and whatsoever also was clearly traceable to heathen 
mythology, appealed to their sympathies in a peculiar man- 
ner, being in more immediate affinity to the fountain-head of 
their Edda. The element of the wonderful, a mere sport of 
the imagination in southern poetry, an idle ornament in the 
armory of chivalry, embodied in emphatic meaning, a deep 
significancy and truth, in the efforts of the northern muse. 
Erom this point of view, the northern arrangement of the 
Nibelungen-lied asserted individual claims to consideration, 
superior to those of the German epic. Iceland and Scandi- 
navia had, likewise, a peculiar chivalric minstrelsy, in the 
middle ages, which, like that of other countries, at first 
merged into prosaic annals, and was subsequently dispersed 
in fragmentary popular lays. This was more especially the 
case in Denmark, England, and Germany, during the epoch 
of religious disputes, when the change that came over eccle- 
siastical and civil life occasioned a long interruption in the 
transmission of national memorials, so that only a few faint 
echoes of minstrelsy were heard, which soon died away in 
broken and lisping numbers. For this reason the ballads of 
England* andGermany,of Scotland and Denmark, are worthy 

* Bitsoris Old English Ballads will well repay the trouble of perusal. — 
Transl. note. 



SCANDINAVIAN LITERATURE. 221 

of being carefully stored up, as the priceless relics of a well- 
nigh forgotten past. The olden literature of the north was 
common to all Scandinavian nations. With the Reformation 
a serious interruption seems to have set in ; the native his- 
torians of Danish as of Swedish literature, are also ac- 
customed to regard the introduction of High- German, im- 
ported with Protestantism, as fatal to the development of the 
vernacular idiom. The later literary history of Sweden is 
adduced by her own critics in support of the maxim that no 
nation, however rich in characteristic feeling and sentiment, 
can aspire to the possession of a native literature so long as 
it continues to attach and devote itself to alien standards. 
It is interesting to observe with how independent and self- 
possessed a spirit Denmark has, of later years, advanced in 
the fields of learning, bearing a manifest resemblance in her 
genius, to Germany and England. The common bond of 
union connecting the German language with that of the 
northern countries already referred to, is equally valid for 
the purpose of linking together the poetry of Germany, 
England, and Denmark. This communion does not extend 
to the regions of philosophy ; and yet, it may safely be pre- 
dicted that the future renown and success of all races, 
descended from Germanic lineage, will in a great measure 
depend on their common progress in philosophic pursuits. 

There is one circumstance which forcibly suggests a com- 
parison between Scandinavia, as it was constituted prior to 
the Reformation, and Spain, it is this : both of these coun- 
tries, when they had attained to a high degree of political 
and intellectual superiority, isolated themselves from the 
rest of Europe, and formed, each for itself, a distinct and 
exclusive whole. Eor, though the Northmen, equally with 
the Spaniards, took part in the prevailing chivalry of the 
middle ages, with which they were familiar of yore ; and 
though, in the course of their travels, they enriched them- 
selves with the learning of southern Europe, still, it is 
abundantly evident there was not so intimate or so frequent 
an intercourse, on the part of either, with foreign countries, 
as that subsisting between England and Erance from the 
eleventh to the fifteenth century, or between Italy and Ger* 
many from the ninth to the sixteenth. The growth of the 
Scandinavian mind had a purely national bent : being espe- 



222 THE SCLAVONIC RACES. 

cially directed to poetry, history, and similar subjects, with 
the slightest possible leaning to higher philosophical investi- 
gation ; at least, in an earlier period, they were equally defi- 
cient with Spain in eminent philosophical enquirers. It is a 
matter worthy of serious consideration to observe how com- 
pletely the four central countries of Europe — Italy, Germany, 
Prance, England — as they have monopolized the political 
history of modern times, so also from the first dawn or 
European civilization under Charlemagne, down to our own 
day, they have taken a permanent and prominent interest in 
the development of philosophy, in her noble progress, or her 
retrogression ; indeed, in all that aifects her history and marks 
her career. The national diversities and tendencies of Philo- 
sophy in these countries will be indicated in the proper 
place. 

Among the Sclavonic races, Russia had several native his- 
torians in early mediaeval times, — an inestimable advantage, 
and an unmistakeable proof of a commencing intellectual 
development. It is highly probable, judging from the exist- 
ence of a flourishing commerce, from intimate relations unin- 
terruptedly maintained with Constantinople, and from other 
circumstances, that Russia had made considerable advance 
in civilization previous to the Mogul devastations. But her 
connection with the Greek Church was the means of isolat- 
ing Russia, during mediaeval and more modern times, politi- 
cally and intellectually from the West. Of other Sclavonic 
lands, Bohemia was in possession of an extensive and valu- 
able literature, under her own Charles IV., a nearer acquaint- 
ance with which might prove important in an historical 
point of view ; from what is at present known of it, it would 
appear to have been more complete in the departments of 
history and science than in that of minstrelsy. I am not in 
a position to test the accuracy of the assertion, that Poland 
had a vast store of poetic reminiscences before the middle 
ages; the alleged aptness of the language for poetic cultiva- 
tion, as also some of the peculiarities inherent in the national 
character, would seem to favour the remark. But, even if 
this were not the case, and if the Sclavonic nations of the 
middle ages were not endowed with such rich poetic trea- 
sures as those of German extraction, and adopting the 
Romanic idiom, a general explanation might, without much 



HUNGARIAN LITERATURE. 223 

difficulty, be offered. Their participation in the Crusades 
was, at the best, very slight in proportion. Indeed, I am 
strongly inclined to question if they took any interest in 
them at all. The spirit of chivalry was either altogether 
strange to their notions, or by no means as dominant with 
them as in the West. Perhaps, too, the mythology of the 
Sclavonic races, previous to their embracing Christianity, 
was more barren than that of the Germans ; or it may have 
been eradicated in too sudden and violent a manner. Though 
of cognate origin with the noblest idioms of ancient and 
modern times, and flexible in their grammatical structure, 
the Sclavonic tougues do not, on the whole, appear to incline 
naturally to the cultivation of poetry. 

There is no doubt that, from the earliest times, the Hun- 
garians had a fine collection of epics composed in their own 
primitive tongue. The engrossing theme of their poetry 
was, most probably, an account of the conquest of the coun- 
try under the " Seven Chiefs." It is tolerably certain that 
these legends of heathen antiquity were not entirely extinct 
even after the introduction of Christianity, since the writers 
of the national chronicles bear testimony to having seen lays 
of corresponding import with their own eyes. This view is 
further confirmed by the fact that Kevaj, a celebrated Hun- 
garian scholar, himself assisted in rescuing from oblivion a 
ballad of this sort : it treats of the immigration of the Mag- 
yars into Hungary. The chronicle recorded by the secretary 
of King Bela,* eminently distinguished in Hungarian his- 
tory and jurisprudence, is, in all probability, made up of 
similar historical lays, turned into prose by the compiler, 
with the addition of sundry opinions and illustrations, the 
coinage of his own brain. He does not at all deserve the 
caustic sneers with which he has been assailed by various 
critics. The Chronicle in question, though mutilated and 
necessarily imperfect, should be favourably accepted, and 
regarded as an important collection of national ballads, with- 
out attempting to fasten upon it extraneous matter and alien 
disputes. Attila, whom Hungary honoured as a native war- 

* Mr. Lockhart has confounded the secretary with his royal master ; of 
is unquestionably the former who compiled the Chronicle to which refer- 
ence is made. There were four Hung-arian monarchs of the house it 
Bela (1060— 1270).— Transl. note. 



224 HUNGARIAN LITERATUEE. 

rior-king, was a favourite subject ol the national muse. 
There is abundant proof throughout the Chronicles of the 
celebration of Attila's prowess, and that of the Gothic 
heroes with whom he is associated in the Niebelungen and 
the Helden-buck in Hungarian song, extant until compara- 
tively late times. These olden traditions probably survived 
till the reign of Matthias Corvin,* who was desirous of 
Latinizing or Italianizing his kingdom all at once ; when, as 
might be expected, the language fell into desuetude, whilst 
the traditions and sweet memories of other days, around 
which nations, like individuals, love to linger, disappeared 
from the scene. Thus it fared with Hungary, in the fifteenth 
century, just as it would have fared with Germany in the 
eighteenth, had the great soldier-king, f who wielded a Ger- 
man sceptre, and who was equally intent on sacrificing the 
intellectual development of his country in the beginning of 
the last century, possessed as unlimited a sway over the whole 
of Germany as Corvin did over Hungary. But, whatsoever 
of Hungarian legendary poetry and glorious reminiscence 
escaped the deadly flow of foreign pseudo-refinement, pro- 
bably perished altogether under the devastations of the 
Turks. Some remains of the national genius for historical 
epics lingered in the country, and survived her destruction. 
The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries produced a few 
masters in this species of composition ; and, in our own 
times, Kisfalud, a bard of considerable feeling, has celebrated 
his country's traditions on the lyre he had formerly attuned 
to Love.J 

* Matthias Corvinus, sometimes styled Hunnyades from his family 
name, one of the most warlike monarchs of a warlike race. His encounters 
with the Turks were frequent and sanguinary : but his arms were gene- 
rally crowned with victory. He married the Princess Beatrix of Naples. — 
Transl. note. 

f Frederick the Great, of Prussia, on all occasions preferred the French 
language to his own. His influence was fatal to the interests of German 
literature. — Transl. note. 

% Professor Creasy, in his admirable work, " The Fifteen Decisive 
Battles of the Woi'ld," (7th Edition), when remarking on the battle of 
Pultowa, takes occasion to allude to the Sclavonic race. He says : — " Let 
it not be supposed that in thus regarding the primary triumph of Russia 
over Sweden as a victory of the Sclavonic over the Germanic race, we are 
dealing with matters of mere ethnological pedantry, or with themes of 
mere speculative curiosity. The fact that Russia is a Sclavonic empire, i3 



NATIONAL LITEEATUEE. 225 

Let me close these sketches of the literature and language 
of the less important countries of Europe with a general 
remark, to which I have already alluded. Every free and 
independent nation may claim the right to a native litera- 
ture — that is, an idiomatic literary development of language. 
Without this, the national genius will never be self-possessed, 
or enjoy an immunity from certain barbaric associations. 
It would be absurd to misconstrue this assertion into undue 
and partial predilection, ignoring the utility of acquiring 
foreign idioms. Eor the purposes of ordinary mental culture, 
and for private reasons, an acquisition of the classical lan- 
guages of antiquity, as also of several of the modern, will 
always be found desirable and proper by some. Of these, 
external circumstances will regulate a fitting selection. The 
adoption of a foreign idiom in the business of legislation and 
jurisprudence is, at all times, exceedingly oppressive, if not 
positively unjust ; when employed in administering state 
affairs, and in the social intercourse of the upper classes, it 
cannot fail to exercise a fatal influence on the language 
which it has undertaken to supplant. But where such a 
proceeding is once established, it becomes an inevitable, 
though reluctant, necessity on the part of individuals to con- 
form to usage. It is, then, a matter for the influential in- 
terference of the upper classes to interpose the weight of 
their authority between two extremes: namely, to render 
to stern necessity what necessity exacts, and not to be 
unmindful of the sacred duty they owe their country. The 
guardianship of the language of a country is, as it were, con- 
fided to the care of the upper classes of society — let them 
not abuse that trust. It should be the earnest endeavour of 
every educated person to maintain inviolate the purity of his 
native language by precept and practice ; pains should be 
taken to become familiar with the history of its rise and 

a fact of immense practical influence at the present moment. Half the 
inhabitants of the Austrian empire are Sclavonian. The population of the 
larger part of Turkey in Europe is of the same race. Silesia, Posen and 
other parts of the Prussian dominions are principally Sclavonic. And 
during- late years an enthusiastic zeal for blending all Sclavonians into one 
great united Sclavonic empire has been growing up in these countries, 
which, however we mny deride its principle, is not the less real and active, 
and of which Russia, as the head and champion of the Sclavonic race, 
knows how to take her advantage." — Transl. note. 

Q 



226 NATIONAL LITERATUEE. 

progress, equally with the history of his country. This reso- 
lution cannot but be facilitated by the acquisition of foreign 
idioms, since pursuits of this nature are calculated to 
increase intelligence generally and to strengthen the faculty 
of expression. The practical application of all acquired 
tongues should be severely restricted to occasions when they 
are really indispensable. Upon the higher classes it is espe- 
cially incumbent to do all in their power towards promoting 
the healthy growth of their native language : they have a 
peculiar interest in the welfare of their country, and their 
responsibility is in this respect commensurately proportioned. 
A nation whose idiom is in process of decay, or is sensibly 
on the road to deterioration, will itself, eventually, succumb 
to barbaric rudeness. A nation that tamely looks on whilst 
it is being despoiled by its idiom, forfeits the respect due to 
independence — is degraded in the ranks of civilization. But, 
however formidable the pressure from without of threatened 
violence in eradicating the indigenous idiom of a country, 
however serious the injury inflicted by the introduction of 
foreign expressions, and the adoption of the same by a servile 
crew of imitators : the danger ceases to be imminent as soon 
as it is recognized. In all things that are not subject to the 
hazard of the moment, but under the controlling influences 
of time and development, the silent opposition of the well- 
disposed classes of the community will ever prevail. The 
tyrant who attempts to crush the liberties of his subjects, 
often defeats his own ends by the imposition of a yoke alike 
strange and intolerable, which rouses the slumbering ener- 
gies of the oppressed, and disseminates more widely the 
spirit of nationality. This was recently proved, when the 
most colossal Despotism of modern times availed not to wrest 
from Germany her intellectual vitality. 

Having thus rapidly glanced at some of the European na- 
tions, I now resume the thread of historic 'enquiry. With 
reference to their external phenomena and final results, the 
important extensions and discoveries that imparted a new 
stimulus to science and literature strictly appertain to the 
eighteenth century. But though the complete manifestation 
of successive stages of development was delayed until the 
eighteenth century, the seeds were undoubtedly sown in the 
sixteenth, at the time of the Reformation. In the case of 



INFLUENCE OF THE REFORMATION. 227 

both the distinct parties into which Christendom was then 
divided, the means, object, and limits of that improved 
culture to which the Reformation was eminently accessory, 
were denned with the nicest precision. Considered in itself 
this contest was altogether out of the sphere of civilization 
and literature ; it connected itself with politics as far as it 
was concerned with the constitution of the Church, the 
nature, limits, and mode of exercising spiritual power, or 
had for it objects those mysteries of Religion which for the 
most part are unapproachable by Philosophy.* 

As may readily be supposed, however, the Reformation, 
which wrought such great changes, was not without varied 
indirect influences, partly salutary and partly noxious, on 
civilization, science, and literature. Of the former kind, 
was the increased study of the Greek and other languages 
of antiquity, which was held indispensable for Religion itself ; 
a study that was henceforth materially extended and generally 
diffused throughout all Protestant countries, such as Hol- 
land, England, and some parts of Germany. In Italy and con- 
siderable portions of Germany, this cannot be ranked as one 
of the resulting benefits, for in them the ancient classics were 
subjects of favourite pursuit long prior to the Reformation. 
The rival zeal that animated the champions of both parties 
could not effect much towards settling the disputed claims 
that roused so fierce an animosity : most of them being of 
a nature not to be accommodated by means of contention 
or discussion. Religion is a matter of feeling and faith, 
rather than of dispute and dialectics. Yet the strife that 
raged was, upon the whole, favourable to the interests of 
historical investigation. The advantage thus accruing was 
of course indirect rather than immediate, and like the bene- 
ficial results of the Reformation, it did not become clearly 

* The spirit of these remarks is not antagonistic to Schlegel's observa- 
tions in his" Lectures on Modern History," where he says: — " From the 
earliest times, from her very origin, Christianity was intimately allied by 
some of her very first teachers with philosophy — a certain proof that this 
alliance was not accidental but essential to Christianity. Her primitive 
apologists completed the victory over the belief and the principles of 
heathenism, chiefly by the superiority of Christian philosophy over the 
stoic-platonic." In the same Lecture he states: — "Whenever true philo- 
sophy is neglected, a false one will inevitably take its place." — Translator's 
note. 



228 THE REFORMATION AND TIIE FINE ARTS. 

apparent till after outward tranquillity had been restored, 
whilst most of the injurious consequences were manifested 
in some respects at once. The effect on the fine arts was 
pernicious, not only by the destruction of existing specimens 
of architecture and painting, but because Art itself was 
diverted from its original and natural destination. The dis- 
turbances and civil wars that ensued were, as usual, more 
detrimental to the Arts than to literature. Probably Ger- 
many lost by these disorders the full development of a style 
of painting peculiar to it, which began to flourish so glori- 
ously under Albrecht Diirer, Lucas Kranach, and Holbein. 
These distinguished masters of German pictorial art were all 
trained in a preceding period, and in their art w T ere found 
no followers. In the Protestant Netherlands, the artist was 
content to choose a meaner theme, which the most masterly 
treatment could not possibly elevate to such dignity as the 
older paintings on religious subjects. "We may affirm that 
in general a great and injurious interruption in the arts and 
literature took place, because the attack on the faith and 
constitution of the Church caused an indiscriminate rejection 
of everything mediaeval — history, art, and poetry in one 
revolutionary overthrow. Germany, in an especial manner, 
sustained irreparable losses. The throwing away of an intel- 
lectual inheritance, bequeathed by a noble ancestry, is, in- 
deed, all but inseparable from great and sudden changes. 
But now that we can afford to look back on these times with 
unbiassed feelings, sober reason and dispassionate judgment, 
let us cease to misapprehend the mediaeval period, its arts and 
its civilization. It has been asserted that the Reformation 
first vindicated the real moral freedom of mankind: to this 
proposition I cannot unreservedly subscribe. The general 
freedom, or rather lawlessness of spirit, so characteristic of 
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, does not belong 
to the immediate consequences of the Reformation : various 
circumstances co-operated in its production ; and after all, 
it may be seriously asked if such degenerate license was 
not in a degree rather injurious than praiseworthy and 
salutary ? The immediate action of the Reformation on the 
systems of philosophy and thought was rather restrictive. 
The very conceptions of a liberality that was characteristic 
of Italy and Germany in the reign of the Medici, Leo X., 



HUGO GEOTIUS. 229 

and the Emperor Maximilian, were unknown in the first 
half of the seventeenth century. A political and spiritual 
despotism, such as that of Henry VIII.* at the first out- 
break of the storm ; and then, after the rending of Europe, 
of Philip II. in the Catholic couutries, and of Cromwell on 
the Protestant side in a state of revolutionary democracy, 
would have been impossible but for the Reformation. He 
who stands at the head of a new party and a great revolu- 
tion, at once political and religious, possesses so unlimited a 
power, even over thought and mind, that it depends simply 
on his own will, if he does not abuse it. It cannot be denied 
that the adherents of the old faith, under Philip II., and in 
the reign of several Erench monarchs, seemed to consider 
every expedient lawful to check the spread of the new doc- 
trine. Should any one quote instances of persecution in 
the times preceding the Reformation, in order to prove its 
beneficial operation, we shall find that in the case of several 
of these persecutions, as in that of Huss, in the fifteenth 
century, on nearer inspection of the enormities it will be 
found that they were in part the effect of political animosity. 
Besides, long after the period of the Reformation, in the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, similar atrocities, to the 
disgrace of mankind, were perpetrated on both sides. 

The earliest independent thinker and noted writer in the 
Protestant ranks, when the first ferment had subsided — Hugo 
Grotius — could not escape persecution and imprisonment, in 
the freest country then existing. On the other hand, the 
manifold abuses to w : hich liberty was subjected, necessarily 
led to limitations that occasionally became harsh and oppres- 
sive. Hence, the nascent development of Italian philosophy, 
in the fifteenth century, was rudely nipped in the bud, a 
circumstance that has induced an erroneous impression to 
prevail relative to the natural ability and philosophic genius 
of that intelligent people. Their efforts in later times were 

* The latest and ablest champion of Henry VIII. (Froude's " History of 
England from the fall of Wolsey to the death of Elizabeth,") vindicates 
the policy of that monarch, and substantially proves him to have been 
magnanimous and patriotic. Mr. Froude has cast much new light on the 
subject from his researches in generally inaccessible sources, such as state- 
records, &c, furnished by Sir F. Pal^rave. Cromwell's character may 
safely be left in the bauds of Thomas Carlyle.— Transl. note. 



230 PROGRESS OE PHILOSOPHY. 

not calculated to dispel the illusion ; for the philosophic 
talents, so abundantly manifested in the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries, were unfortunately arrayed in opposi- 
tion to the Church, or shocked the common morality of man- 
kind. In the realms of intellect, as in the domains of 
politics, anarchy engenders despotism, and despotism, when 
it has reached the culminating point, gives place to still 
more violentreactions,immoderateand endless. Thereis,then, 
a continual oscillation between the two extremes, despotism 
and anarchy, both equally hideous and repulsive : unless a 
third power interposes, stems the angry tide of frenzy, and 
exercises benevolent and soothing mediation. 

We have seen that Protestantism was never actually in 
direct contact with art or poetry, but that wherever it in- 
fluenced these, its agency was destructive. On history 
and on philology it exercised a highly beneficial influence : 
with. philosophy its relations were of the most intimate na- 
ture. It will now be convenient to take a rapid survey of 
the history and condition of philosophy, both before the 
Reformation, and during the first hundred years that fol- 
lowed that great event: but only in so far as philosophy 
was essentially connected with the civilization of the human 
race. 

The distinguished reasoners who flourished in England, 
Italy, and France, prior to the twelfth century, have already 
been enumerated. Germany took a decided lead in the 
production of such intellects : almost in unbroken series from 
Charlemagne to the Eeformation, and even after it. Upon 
the whole, mental sluggishness is not one of the charges 
that can justly be brought against the Europe of the middle 
ages. If any objection be raised, it is this, that, together 
with good and useful matter, much that was useless and 
positively pernicious was accepted by the restless activity of 
curious enquiry. The Arabs introduced the mathematics, as 
well as improvements in chemistry and medicine : but this 
valuable information was alloyed by monstrosities, misnamed 
systems, of astrology and alchemy. The philosophy of Aris- 
totle, who was generally considered as the highest standard, 
the quintessence of natural thought and science, was accom- 
panied by a whole host of subtile dialectics, a chaotic mass 
of sophistry, such as the Greeks, more especially, were wont 



THE ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY. 231 

to hnrbour. The best thing in the Philosophy of Aristotle 
is the spirit of Criticism: "but, in order to apprehend this 
spirit, a comprehensive and, at the same time, minute ac- 
quaintance with the entire genius of antiquity is absolutely 
essential. Such an acquaintance was hardly compatible with 
the circumstances of that time: it is even now very un- 
common. This spirit of criticism does not forsake Aristotle 
until he arrives at the awful threshold of metaphysics : and 
here, the two guides — Reason and Experience — in whom he 
had hitherto implicitly trusted, are totally inadequate. Prom 
a blind attachment to those unintelligible metaphysics which 
were in the works of the master himself, resulted the so- 
called scholastic system. The evil was, in some measure, 
compensated for by an increased study of Aristotle's prac- 
tical physics, more particularly subsequent to the time of 
Albertus Magnus. To say that the middle ages were much 
benefited by the moral philosophy of the Stagyrite, I would 
not assert : its principal advantage to ourselves consists in 
the elucidation of Greek manners, social economy, and po- 
litical constitution which it affords. Europe had, for some 
centuries, been in possession of a Christian morality purer 
and much loftier ; so that the additions made were chiefly 
superfluous distinctions and false assumptions. A striking 
example of the noxious effects of Aristotelian morals, in 
their practical application, is exhibited in a highly civilized 
and learned age. I allude to Spain id the sixteenth century. 
When the treatment of the Americans was discussed in 
public, Sepulveda, a man naturally upright and honourable, 
but a fond disciple of Aristotle, stoutly advocated the legiti- 
macy of slavery : an institution no less opposed to the prin- 
ciples of Christianity than it is repulsive to the best feelings 
of Humanity. 

It must not be supposed that the great Doctors of Aristo- 
telian philosophy in the middle ages were the first to 
propagate this system. The Church had early offered the 
most strenuous- opposition to its dissemination. Erom the 
first, many perilous and erroneous doctrines were associated 
with it. Its tenets, when deeply rooted, led to the substi- 
tution of a general soul of the world for a Deity, and to a 
denial of the personal immortality of the soul — not necessa- 
rily, perhaps, yet it did so, among the Arabs, in the middle 



232 THE ARISTOTELIAN PHILOSOPHY. 

ages, and in the sixteenth century. But when the pressure 
of the times was irresistible, when it was no longer competent 
for the age to make head against Aristotle's system, it was 
adopted by certain Christian philosophers, for the purpose of 
breaking the fury of the tide, and directing its stream into 
less dangerous channels. On the merits of these distinguished 
guardians of the faith, a decision may be arrived at as 
follows : — the false or scholastic elements of their philosophy 
are derived from the traditionary sophistry of paganism, 
from the original defects of the Aristotelian system, from 
the vices of Arabian commentators, and from the vehement 
sectarianism of the age. This last has, in all time, proved 
so virulent in its infectious properties as to taint the very 
persons who attack it. The universities especially contri- 
buted to foment the strife : from them generous youth issued 
in thousands, inflamed with the most furious party-zeal. The 
good effected by the more excellent of mediaeval philosophers 
is attributable in part to Christianity, which saved them 
from many grave errors ; in part, to their own genius and 
sound understanding. But this scholastic system, as it has 
been called, this erratic effort of the mind to grasp the 
shadows of vain formulas, is by no means exclusively 
characteristic of the middle ages. It was a frequent symptom 
of Grecian philosophy, and reached the greatest height 
during the most flourishing age of its culture. Modern times 
stand charged with it : nor Germany alone. France and 
England afford numerous examples, occasionally emanating 
from the bitterest antagonists of Aristotle and scholastic 
science : that is, provided we look at the essence of the evil, 
and are not disposed to underrate the dangers of sophistry, 
simply because it may assume greater elegance and pliancy 
of form. 

The perplexed roving of the mind in empty conceits and 
lifeless abstractions as soon as we desert the path of truth, 
is the peculiar and hereditary malady of Eeason. Wayward 
in its career, it sometimes operates on life in the more 
dangerous form of loquacious verbosity, or is confined within 
the restricted formulas of the schools. It is, in both cases, 
in close union with a spirit of sectarianism at variance with 
truth. 

Mediaeval philosophy, generally, is liable to the accusation 



MEDIiEVAL PIIIXOSOPHY. 233 

of not beiog permeated in all its parts by the vivifying spirit 
of Christianity. In the two chief forms of the European 
svstem of Philosophy derived from the ancients — I refer to 
the Platonic and the Aristotelian — were the germs of two 
distinct errors : the one, at which I have just been glancing, 
is the subtle refining process, in connection with the dialec- 
tics of antiquity and of Aristotle : the other, Platonism, is 
in itself more sublime and pure, but nevertheless not exempt 
from fanciful extravagance, as soon as it is freed from those 
wholesome restraints with which mere humanity can never 
entirely dispense. Tais is illustrated by countless examples, 
derived from the second species of mediaeval philosophy, the 
so-called mystical. As long as they were animated by 
religious feeling only, and with gentle piety strove after 
perfection according to the precepts and example of the 
Gospel, the Mystics rested on the firm ground of Christian 
truth : thus, they conferred innumerable benefits, not on 
their contemporaries alone, but on the Church generally 
throughout all time, like our Thomas a Kempis. This 
method was indisputably right in opposition to Scholasticism. 
Yet. despite inward piety of sentiment and feeling, the 
religious Mystics of the middle ages not unfrequently had a 
perceptible tinge of pantheistic negation and self-annihilation 
alien to the spirit of Christianity, and a bar to its loftier 
development. Did they desire to roam through the spacious 
realms of science, religious feeling was, of itself, deemed in- 
sufficient: other sources of perception, not always of the 
purest, were laid under contribution, more particularly for 
an examination of nature's secrets. Platonism, connected 
as it was with many oriental traditions and mysteries, allowed 
too free a scope to the imagination : with investigations of 
natural philosophy, a belief in astrology and an inclination 
to magic arts were too often blended. This was especially 
the case in Germany : a circumstance deriving additional 
weight from the fact that kindred impostures are just now 
extremely prevalent in this country. Just as eminent men 
of old were wont to commence their biography by commend- 
ing themselves to the Almighty, or by the pious expression 
of some wish or thought, so it is now the fashion to prefix a 
scheme of nativity, or some astrological calculation.* Such 
* Imposture of the kind here alluded to cannot be too strongly repro- 



234 ASTROLOGY. 

phenomena which are regarded as wonderful and mysterious, 
not as if in themselves they were quite lawless, uncon- 
nected and inconceivable, but because they certainly belong 
to a higher and hidden order and region, I am very far from 
wishing to deny, when profound men of science make them 
the objects of their examination. But even when thus 
investigated and found to be to a certain extent real, in 
order to avoid perilous conclusions, sidereal influences should 
at all times be subjected and reconciled to the spirit of 
Christianity, which alone is able to interpret and direct 
aright these hidden powers. If, however, human liberty be 
unreservedly committed to astral control, a belief in astrology 
is calculated to sap the very foundations of morals and reli- 
gion, as our own Schiller has shewn in his admirable dramatic 
delineation of Wallenstein. # These subjects have ever been 
treated as mysterious secrets, in consequence of the facility 
of their abuse, and the peril attendant on their communica- 
tion. It is perfectly consistent with historical probability 
to suppose that Albertus Magnus, Nicolas* of Cusa, the 
great mathematician of the fifteenth century, worthy Bishop 
Trithemius, and Eeuchlin, the most illustrious oriental 
scholar of his age, were in possession of much knowledge 
not commonly diffused at the present moment. Neither 
would it be altogether just to ignore the genius or the 
integrity of these scholars merely because they were mixed 
up with fallacies such as menace the reputation of our own 
times. Others unfortunately did not retain the original 
purity of their intellects on coming in contact with some of 
the splendid but specious dogmas of the age : Agrippa and 
Paracelsus may he quoted as being by no means free from 
blemish. At an earlier period, however, Germany could 
boast of many mystic philosophers imbued with pure religious 
feelings : no modern language was adapted or applied to the 
pursuit of the higher branches of philosophy equally soon 

bated. It lays the axe at the root of all progressive civilization, not to 
say religion, unci pioneers the way to credulity and crime. — Trausl. note. 
* Allusion is here made to Wallenstein, the brave Duke of Friedland, 
and the hero of Schiller's finest tragedy. Having thrown off his allegiance 
to the Emperor of Austria, he was declared guilty of high treason, and 
assassinated in his own quarters by emissaries sent for that purpose. 
Previous to undertaking anything of importance, he invariably consulted 
Seni, an astrologer constantly in attendance upon him. — Transl. note. 



TAULER. 235 

with the G-erman. A vast number of writers in this depart- 
ment, both in low and high German, continued to nourish 
from the thirteenth century until the Reformation : they 
founded a sort of school among themselves, and were styled 
disciples of secret wisdom, or of the heavenly Sophia, by 
which term they understood divine truth, alike the object of 
their contemplation and to which they devoted their life. 
Of a whole host of names I will here cite but one, of great 
importance in a history of the language, Tauler, the preacher 
or philosopher, revered long after the Reformation by the 
joint homage of Protestants and Catholics, until his memory, 
too, sunk into oblivion. Alsatian scholars, though in political 
unison with Trance, have been reluctant to sever themselves 
from the literary associations of their native country, and by 
their earnest researches in German philology and antiquities, 
have shewn that they were true Germans. They have been 
among the first, in modern times, to recal attention to this 
forgotten thinker, and to the value of his works, especially 
in point of language. His diction, when compared with that 
prevalent in Luther's age, or even a century later, suggests 
a difference as striking — if poetry and prose may be com- 
pared — as the difference obtaining between the harmonious 
melody of chivalric poetry in the thirteenth century, such 
as the Nibelungenlied, and the doggrel rhyme of the sixteenth 
century. The prose of Tauler contrasts favourably with that 
of later times, because he was pure in spirit and single-minded 
in his aim. 

If, then, the charge of mysticism is sometimes brought 
against the. Germans of the present day, this fault is far 
more ancient than those who reproach us with it are aware, 
for it may be traced to the twelfth century, or even the 
reign of Charlemagne. So far, however, from being a fit 
subject of reproach, this tendency is one of the characteristic 
peculiarities of the intellect and soul of a country, which, 
without prejudice to the rest, asserts the third rank among 
the metaphysical nations of history. In India, Greece, and 
Germany, metaphysical genius, or the science of divine 
things, cultivated and applied in. all its varied associations of 
height and depth, of ways and byeways, was native and 
indigenous, not of exotic growth. 

National character, in its manifold phases, for the most 



230 NATIONAL CHARACTER. 

part coloured the philosophy of the middle ages, as it does 
that of more recent times. England and Prance, then as 
now, produced clever independent thinkers, as also bold 
sceptics and keen-witted sophists. Many of the so-called 
scholastics, natives of France and England, bore a national 
impress exceedingly well-defined for that a^e. The Italians 
of former times were distinguished by unwavering devotion 
to the doctrines of the true faith : as also, but in inferior 
degree, by a fondness for the higher and often fanciful 
regions of philosophy. The tendency to Platonism is appa- 
rent in their poets. Erom the sketch I have just made, it 
may, accordingly, be inferred that the Aristotelian mode of 
thought and investigation predominated in England and 
Erance, during mediaeval as well as modern times. Hence 
the two countries harmonized in their views and sentiments 
more than would appear to the superficial observer, not- 
withstanding political differences. A certain leaning to 
Platonism, and habits of thought akin to that system, were 
characteristic alike of the artistic Italian genius and of the 
reflective, sensitive German : hence, with all the difference 
of national descent, of language and of customs, a certain 
sympathy and mutual inclination between the two nations 
is undeniable. 



LECTURE XI. 



General Remarks on Philosophy previous and subse- 
quent to the Reformation. — Poetry oe Catholic 
Countries — Spain, Portugal, Italy. — Garcilaso, 
Ercjlla, Camoens, Tasso, Guarini, Marino, Cer- 
vantes. 

The general condition of civilization and the progress of 
philosophy shortly before the Reformation, and during the 
first century after it, formed the subjects of our recent en- 
quiry. I would now proceed to give the essential results of 
this enquiry in the following observations. 

Previous to the Reformation and the revival of classical 



ARISTOTELIAN LOGIC. 237 

literature, a system of verbal subtleties, called the Aristo- 
telian logic, predominated throughout Europe : it was 
accepted by the learned, and enunciated from academic 
chairs. The fifteenth century inaugurated a nobler philo- 
sophy, at least in Germany and Italy ; when meaniugless 
abstractions yielded to living truths, moulded partly in Pla- 
tonic, partly in Oriental forms. Though faulty and imper- 
fect in individual expressions, yet, in the aggregate, this 
new system pointed in the right direction, and was intrinsi- 
cally richer and more profound than that which it had sup- 
planted. Its superiority was manifested in the very manner 
of its conveyance and in the character of its promoters. It 
was not expounded in the universities and schools ; it was 
not narrowed down into sectarian views : it was a genuine 
philosophy, in the old sense of the word, a love of truth and 
of wisdom, honourably courted and zealously diffused, for its 
own sake, by men who felt an inward and irresistible call to 
propagate the glorious knowledge of the Truth ; so powerful 
were the attractions, so endearing the graces of this philo- 
sophy, that the greatest mathematicians, the most accom- 
plished classical scholars, the first orientalists, of the fifteenth 
century, in Italy as well as Germany, were enroHed among 
her followers. The only effect that a renewed acquaintance 
with Greek literature had on philosophy, as a whole, was to 
contribute auxiliary support, in the shape of legendary lore, 
to the already enthusiastic fancy of oriental mystic Pla- 
tonism. In other words, the restoration of ancient literary 
memorials enriched the learning of the age, whilst it also 
assisted in diffusing fanciful chimerical ideas, and thus co- 
operated for evil as well as for good. 

Aristotelian philosophy was influenced in a far greater 
degree. It had hitherto never been comprehended or taught 
in its distinctive features. Its own peculiar guardians, the 
Scholastics, had intermingled platonic conceptions, in mak- 
ing it subservient to Christian doctrine. On now being- 
drawn fresh from the well-springs of its source, and viewed 
in connexion with the whole extent and bearings of Grecian 
genius, it was a material gainer in point of form at least : it 
was divested of the outer scholastic garb that never really 
fitted it, and arrayed in classic drapery not unworthy of the 
acute genius of its author. The more, however, this Greek 



238 philosophy or epicurus. 

philosophy became the subject of earnest pursuit and inde- 
fatigable research, the more frequent were the instances of 
aberration on the part of its adherents : some of them, even- 
tually, arrived at results directly at variance with religion 
and morality, such as acknowledging an all-pervading spirit 
of matter and of the universe as a great first Cause, in place 
of the Almighty, and denying the immortality of the soul. 
This happened in the case of several disciples of Aristotle, 
chiefly in Italy, in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries. The efforts made at this period by some admirers 
of ancient literature to revive other systems of antiquity, 
such as the Stoic, had less influence on the course of Philo- 
sophy, at least not so palpably. Plato and Aristotle have 
so clearly defined the two principal modes of human thought 
and perception, that they have remained and must remain 
such for all succeeding generations. All other tenets of 
antiquity are valuable only in consequence of their relation 
to these two leading systems, from which they are, generally 
speaking, mere deviations or bye-paths, which again bring 
back to the main road. Hence the various attempts that 
were made to re-establish Stoicism, or indeed any other 
pagan teaching, were futile, and only served to augment the 
prevalent confusion. To the eternal disgrace of the seven- 
teenth century, be it recorded, that the vilest of all ancient 
doctrines, the crude materialism of Epicurus, which resolves 
every thing into primary corporeal atoms, found favour for 
a time : a circumstance of itself amply sufficient to attest 
the degeneracy of genuine philosophy, the decline of pure 
science. Subsequently, this antiquated atom theory, ren- 
dered somewhat more important by modern discoveries in 
physics, attracted a large number of followers, until it grew 
to be the dominant philosophy of the latter half of the 
eighteenth century, especially in France, but also over the 
rest of Europe, owing to the prevalence of the Erench 
language. 

The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries are not unfrequently 
regarded as the epoch of a revival or even regeneration of 
science. In reference to a renewed acquaintance with Gre- 
cian literature and antiquities generally, there was a great 
accession to historical knowledge : and, though it would not 
be correct to say that complete perfection was attained, yet 



LUTHER AND MELA5TCTHON. 239 

considerable progress was effected. However gratifying the 
advances that were made in the field of information, there 
is no ground for alleging that a regeneration of the mental 
faculties really took place : to deserve this appellation, what- 
ever agency was at work should have been from within— a 
raising, as it were, of the dead spirit, a sensible quickening 
to vitality. Such effects as these were not directly realized : 
the two principal philosophic methods, the Aristotelian and 
the Platonic, retained their ascendancy. Yet on the future 
development of both these schools the Reformation exer- 
cised no small amount of influence. Luther himself seems 
not to have been familiar with the import of that platonic 
oriental system which had enlisted so numerous a host of 
followers under her banners, both before and at his time, 
throughout Germany. On the other hand, he was inflamed 
with implacable hatred and abhorrence of the scholastics and 
their reputed founder, Aristotle, whom he was accustomed 
to call a "dead heathen." Again, Luther's dearest friend 
and follower, Melancthon, was one of their staunchest ad- 
herents : nay more, it was he who once more reinstated 
Aristotle and the scholastic school, refined and purged of 
many of their more glaring errors, in their former ascend- 
ancy. The case was as follows : — The central point of 
Truth being once withdrawn or unsettled in the nobler and 
loftier Platonic philosophy, the door was opened to extrava- 
gance of every kind and degree ; and such, unhappily, were 
its frequent manifestations during the early period of the 
Reformation, when anarchy and wildest confusion raged 
throughout Germany. Universal suspicion of its principles 
naturally followed. Spain as well as Germany accepted 
Aristotelian tenets ; inasmuch as this ancient system of 
forms was the more readily applied by both of the contend- 
ing parties to their particular creeds, that it was altogether 
destitute of any vitality of its own. Although now en- 
riched by great additions of natural science, linguistic lore, 
and antiquities, its main fault was not diminished: there 
was the same idle dispute about words, and though a better 
philosophy was on the point of banishing it in the fifteenth 
century, it maintained itself in all tlie countries where lite- 
rature and science were cultivated to the end of the seven- 
teenth century. In Italy the nobler system, that now assumed 



240 MENTAL POWER OP THE UNEDUCATED. 

the character of a violent and uncompromising opposition, 
was repressed by the most violent measures, and several men 
of eminent talent, like Giordano Bruno, were sacrificed as 
victims to the strife. • In Germany and England the higher 
philosophy, though not entirely suppressed, was yet subjected 
to persecution, and, by common consent, banished from the 
sphere of the learned. But with so much greater care was it 
fostered by secret traditions or associations, or cultivated by 
persons in the lower ranks of society. In both these 
ways it was exposed to manifold corruptions and misrepre- 
sentations, and kept back from general development and 
influence. 

The endowments of nature are, happily, not meted out 
with a niggardly or partial hand : the light of divine Revela- 
tion is open to every christian and susceptible mind who is 
favoured with it : the spirit of deep reflection and of the 
highest science is not confined to the educated classes, and 
is altogether independent of learning. Many of the most 
notable philosophers of ancient Greece were of humble 
origin, having no further mark of distinction than earnest 
thought : Socrates, the greatest of Grecian sages, was no 
scholar, neither would he become one. The first teachers 
of Christianity were men of the people ; yet we see them 
entrusted with the most awful mysteries of human contem- 
plation. From time to time similar individuals have not 
been wanting. There is often extraordinary moral and 
spiritual power in the strong and undistracted minds of the 
common people. The page of history abounds with examples 
of men in the lower walks of life who have founded sects and 
remodelled states : the salvation of their country and the 
spread and revival of true Religion have often proceeded 
from such men when called to it, and animated by a pure 
enthusiasm, of which the history of the Catholic church fur- 
nishes many examples. This was, of course, for the most 
part, effected by means of deeds, not writings. If we turn to 
the spirit of invention and flow of language, and compare 
philosophy with poetry, we shall find that genius is far from 
being the exclusive prerogative of the educated. If Shak- 
spere, who entirely attached himself to the poetry of the 
people, could attain to a height and depth of dramatic repre- 
sentation which completely throws into the shade the most 



JACOB BOEHME. 241 

elaborate efforts of educated and artistic bards . the success 
in Germany of a man of the people who could measure all 
the heights and depths of the most metaphysical thinking 
and of the higher philosophy is quite intelligible ; I allude to 
him whose very name is a stumbling-block to the enlight- 
ened, and to the learned foolishness : Jacob Boehme, the 
Teutonic philosopher. In Germany, in Holland, and in 
England, he had a host of admiring followers : of which 
number King Charles of England, of unhappy memory, was 
not the least ardent. 

I have on a previous occasion expressed my conviction 
that the very presence of a body of popular poetry, in its 
strictest meaning, is an unerring indication of the decline 
and decay of real poetry : for that noble art should belong 
to no peculiar section, should be in the interests of no one 
party, but be common to all classes of the community, the 
illiterate equally with the educated. But if this be suffi- 
ciently evident in the case of poetry, how much more true 
is it not of popular philosophy, which, almost in its very 
terms, involves a contradiction ? How fortunately soever 
individuals may escape the noxious consequences of so ab- 
normal a condition, it cannot but tend to the ultimate decay 
of philosophy. This is not the place to describe and explain 
the remarkable system originated by this Teutonic philoso- 
pher. For the present, it will suffice to remark that he is 
characterized by a peculiarly gentle and Christian meekness, 
to a degree not to be found among contemporary Divines. 
The manifold and inner phases of the soul form the basis of 
his meditations : higher aspirations early led him beyond 
the limits of the ordinary Protestant faith and teaching, and 
directed his spiritual gaze to dwell upon the dawn of a 
brighter future, a new era and an universal glorification 
He sought to manifest the excellence of Divine lievelation, 
as patent in the wonders of creation, more especially by 
means of seven secret natural sources and their concealed 
agency: whilst he himself would seem to have been endowed 
with a peculiar intuitive vision of these hidden depths and 
sources. There is no great difficulty in discovering that the 
system of Jacob Boehme, though impressed with the stamp 
of original inventive genius, is somewhat imbued with the 
prevalent fopnis of mystic philosophy which were then 



212 JACOB BOEHME. 

gaining ground more and more. Neither ought it to be a 
matter of great surprise to find the unquenchable thirst 
after Truth led him into other paths far away from the 
verbal subtleties of the learned. When the visible and in- 
visible bond of the Church was once broken, in some lands 
another kind was here and there adopted in its stead. There 
are gradations in the recognition of the truth, inferior and 
superior degrees : nor can it be expected that the latter 
should be very common in the present militant state of man. 
I agree with Lessing, who records it as his deliberate opi- 
nion, that among the component parts of human knowledge 
there are some of so secret a nature that whoever has seized 
them cannot find resolution to communicate them publicly : 
either the proper time or the means are wanting. The 
existence of traditions such as these is historically evident 
in all ages ; and it would be difficult, if not impossible, 
effectually to obstruct their transmission secretly from gene- 
ration to generation. But even if traditions of this nature 
were admitted, on all sides, to consist of pure unmixed 
truths, yet the very opposition of secret to open and public 
truth were of itself highly objectionable, and not to be coun- 
tenanced. If there were an invisihle Church in direct anti- 
thesis to the visible, the internal conflict, and disruption 
would resemble a separation of soul and body, and threaten 
us with a general dissolution. Matters are not yet come to 
such a pass : the soul and body of man are still in harmo- 
nious unison, and Truth is one. Whosoever has quitted the 
rock on which her foundations rest will not be able to build * 
up her temple. The wonders of nature and the secrets of 
science and of the world of spirits are isolated rays of the 
Divine light, as it has shone in the Church of Grod from the 
beginning, and will continue to shine unto the end of time. 
The dogmas of the schools and the teaching of science, with 
their exoteric or esoteric propagation and connexion, must 
in most eyes be distinct and apart from religion and the 
Church, in outward constitution as well as in living appli- 
cation. In the inner depths of the spirit, however, they 
must eternally be one, for the Word of Life, which it is the 
business of both to publish and expound, by diverging 
routes, is universally the same and emphatically one. 

Such, then, were some of the effects of the Eeformation 



TT% 



EFFECTS OF THE EEFORMATIO^". 243 

ou philosophy. "We have seen how the intellectual oriental 
platonic mode of philosophising, reared with admirable 
skill by the leading minds of Italy and Germany during the 
fifteenth century, was suppressed after the Reformation, 
during the sixteenth and seventeenth abandoned to the people 
and a few self-taught men, or, at the best, propagated in 
secret, after being greatly corrupted and disfigured. Whilst 
openly, amongst the learned, the old logical word-system, 
called Aristotelian, maintained its authority for almost two 
hundred years till towards the middle and end of the seven- 
teenth century, when other systems and sects supplanted it, 
whose merits I shall investigate in the sequel, since their 
influence has extended to our own times, and their complete 
development belongs to the eighteenth century. 

The effects of the Reformation on mental culture and 
science must, therefore, be estimated according to a correct 
historical judgment, and not with that indiscriminate ap- 
plause bestowed upon them by narrow-minded partisans. 
Especially must a great epoch of this kind be judged of, not 
according to its effects and consequences, but by its internal 
essence. If the essence of that epoch be for the most part 
represented as an awakening of the Intellect — and the 
mediaeval period as that in which the Imagination predomi- 
nated — this view is on the whole correct; but there are 
several considerations which must not be lost sight of, if we 
would avoid drawing erroneous conclusions. In every age 
of the world one or other of the elementary powers of the 
human mind has taken the lead, has been peculiarly active, 
has given a particular direction to the course of events, and 
impressed its own peculiar character. Thus it was in the 
third age of the World, which includes twelve centuries 
from Constantine to the Reformation, and which we have 
been wont to call the transition-period from the Old World 
to the New, or the Middle Ages : the predominant element 
was the Imagination — not that of ancient Paganism, but a 
new, Christian, transformed, and enlightened Imagination— 
and hence from this new spring, from the Christian regene- 
ration of this one elementary power of Man, resulted the 
most peculiar phenomena of that period. In saying this we 
do not mean that the other powers— the Intellect or the 
Will — did not strikingly manifest themselves in many great 



244 EPEECTS OF THE BEFOEMATION. 

events and productions at that time, only there was a pre- 
ponderance of the preceding element, the relation of which 
to the other elements can be easily discovered in the details 
of its development and progress through all the successive 
periods of that age. Nor can the dialectic subtleties of the 
Schoolmen form a valid objection against the predominance 
of Imagination in the Middle-Age: but on the contrary, 
when an elementary power predominates on the whole in 
any age, the contrary forces are concentrated so much the 
more in a few individuals, and are prone to shape and 
develop themselves in glaring contrast and extreme one- 
sidedness. Thus, in our age of Eeason, Poetry and artistic 
Imagination stand out in isolated separation, as formerly on 
the contrary side Scholasticism; and so, generally, the 
mental development of every age brings with it its peculiar 
defects and dross. But if the fourth age of the world, 
which commenced at the beginning of the sixteenth century 
as the turning-point, is correctly designated the Age of 
Eeason, must it necessarily have been exactly such an 
awakening of it ? Must it be a relapse into Pagan reason, 
instead of a higher illumination of Christian thinking and 
knowledge in suitable development and regular progress ? 
For that purpose it was as unnecessary as it was criminal, 
first to break up the Faith ; then for three hundred years to 
place Faith and Science in a state of perpetual collision, by 
which the former was corrupted, spoiled and laid waste, and 
the latter separated from it, and by this hostile separation in- 
wardly checked, and become weakened in its vital action. 
As little was it necessary to throw away at once every sacred 
memorial and all the ornament of life with which a child- 
like pious Imagination had carefully decked it, in order that 
the Eeason of the new Period might accomplish its destiny. 
Grant that the Middle-Age of dawning Imagination gave 
birth to its peculiar errors ; yet, though only comparable to 
a star of night, it did not so entirely miss the right way as 
the clear daylight of Eeason, during the whole first half of 
its course, after it had once departed from God. But the 
evil does not lie in the character of Eeason belonging to 
modern times, since this, like every other elementary power 
in the cycle of mental development, when its time come?, 
must take the lead, to fulfil its appointed function in the 



EFFECTS OF THE KEFOEMATION. 245 

World's history ; but the evil lies in the bad use which Man, 
as a free being, makes of the newly-awakened power, since 
he employs it not in loving harmony for the progressive 
glorification of Christianity, as the invaluable pledge of 
divine Tradition and E-evelation, but has applied it almost 
entirely in a spirit of division and separation, till at last, in 
our day, the remedy has proceeded from the very excess of 
the evil. 

Just as the nations of Europe, since the epoch of discord, 
have separated more and more from each other, so also be- 
tween the different sciences and studies a manifold, dis- 
graceful separation has taken place. Especially has this 
been injurious to the study of Antiquity, and prevented its 
bringing forth any good fruits, or influencing life. The first 
founders of this revived study were Philosophers and men 
who had as vivid a knowledge of the Middle Ages as of 
Antiquity, and who combined Oriental learning with Gre- 
cian. Hence every thing appeared to them in general in its 
right place, in the great scheme of the World's history, and 
in living power. But after the separation had commenced, 
when Philosophy was displaced, suppressed, and banished, 
and the Middle Ages forgotten, the attention of learned 
men, who were scarcely at home in their own world and 
among their own people, was wholly confined to the antiqui- 
ties of the Greeks and Eomans, whom they admired without 
properly comprehending their beauty, which was only ap- 
preciated with some zest by the poets and artists. As 
classical learning was scarcely ever united to philosophy, a 
stupid, superstitious regard for words sprung up among 
scholars, which not till the eighteenth century gave way to 
a more intelligent study of the Ancients. 

Even for Art and Poetry, it must be regarded as injurious, 
that they scarcely ever came in contact with Philosophy, 
that the culture of the Imagination was more or less sepa- 
rated from the culture of the Season, and that the latter 
often assumed a hostile attitude against the former. Yet 
amidst the fluctuations and commotions of those stormy 
times, which were shared by Philosophy and History, almost 
the only free asylum was afforded by Poetry and Art, where 
genius and sentiment could develop themselves undisturbed 
in all their beauty. 



24G SPANISH POETET. 

The poetry of Catholic countries, such as Spain, Italy, 
Portugal, having in the age now before us a kindred charac- 
ter and an obvious affinity, it will be convenient to consider 
them together. The Spaniards were early in possession of 
their national poem of the Cid, whilst Troubadour poetry 
did not reach full maturity until the fifteenth century, a 
period considerably later than that of any other nation. 
Upon the whole, the spirit of chivalry, with its cognate 
minstrelsy, retained its hold longer here than in the rest of 
Europe. The chivalric records of their country, for the 
most part of an original character, were distinguished, at 
least the oldest and best known, the Amadis, by polished 
diction and a predominant fondness for gentle and pastoral 
delineations. This confirms the remark I made when enter- 
ing more fully into the details of chivalric and old German 
poetry, namely, that this soft and tender pathos is singularly 
peculiar to the heroic nature of warlike nations. Both in 
Spain and Portugal, chivalry was not long disjoined from 
pastoral romance. In the fifteenth century, poetry, and 
more especially the Troubadour poetry, derived material 
assistance from the compositions of Yillena and Santillana, 
whose birth, rank, and influence, gave them a leading position 
in the State. It is one of the distinctions of Spanish poesy 
that from the first it was cultivated more by nobles and 
knights than by scholars or professed literary men. The 
term Castilian would be more appropriately affixed to older 
Spanish song : this province was originally the cradle of the 
Spanish muse, and diverse portions of the Peninsula had 
their own verse, a totally distinct and separate species. 
Catalonia was in possession of a peculiar store of minstrelsy, 
which, from the character of its idiom, is commonly included 
in Provencal composition. The last popular lay framed in 
that dialect was in honour of the heroism and tragic fate of 
Charles of Viane, This prince was one of the latest favourites 
of the people, and the senior brother, by a previous marriage, 
of Ferdinand, surnamed the Catholic, to whose crown Castile 
was annexed, on which account he was almost regarded as a 
stranger, and viewed with no great favour in some districts 
of Arragon. Henceforth Arragon became more and more 
subordinate in rank: with her political independence its 
peculiar poetry likewise disappeared. Castile grew to be 



SPANISH POETRY. 2i7 

the dominant head of confederated states, and in Castiliau 
poetry were all the beauties of poetry united which had been 
scattered over the various provinces of this poetic country. 
Portugal alone retained a distinct existence in the domains 
of language and poetry: yet the memories of that frequent 
intercourse which had for ages subsisted between Portugal 
and Castile still survived ; many Portuguese composed in 
the Castile idiom, and much that passes under the name of 
Castilian is in reality Portuguese. So close is the resem- 
blance- which the one bears to the other, that it would be 

| difficult to define the limits of invention on either side with 
strict accuracy. The Arabians too contributed to enrich 
and adorn Spanish poetry. The muse of old Castile is, how- 
ever, quite free from Arabic or oriental admixture. Its 
language and spirit are rather simple and severe. "We can 
affirm this with greater certainty because the presence of 
foreign influence in later times is so marked in its distinctive 
features. Difference of creed and a mutual aversion were 
sufficiently pointed in earlier ages to prevent amalgamation, 
or even friendly intercourse, on the part of both. When 
Isabella and Perdinand the Catholic (I name Isabella first 
because she was inflamed with an indomitable desire to 
liberate her country from foes doubly hateful in her eyes) 
captured Granada, and emancipated Spain from a yoke that 
had oppressed it for seven centuries, Arabian dominion in 
that land was split into two factions, presided over by the 
respective heads of two illustrious tribes. One of these, the 
Bencerrajas, subsequently made terms with the Spaniards 
and embraced Christianity : the other joined the Moors in 
Africa. Romances are still extant, recording in glowing 
strains the prowess of the Bencerrajas and their deadly 
enmity against the Zegris, and the last struggles of the 
G-ranadian Arabs ; proud songs of love and glory, mutilated 

i heroic fragments of most tender feelings, simple in language, 
but not without an oriental glow, and in their lyric grace 
resembling such memories of original Arab songs.* In these 

* " The reader," says Mr. Lockhart, in his Ancient Spanish Ballads, 
" cannot need to be reminded of the fatal effects produced by the feuds 
subsisting between the two great families, or rather races, of the Zegris 
and the Abencerrages of Granada." See Mr. Lockhart's admirable version 
of the Zegris Bride.— Tr and. note> 



248 SPANISH POETRY. 

romances, more charming, to my fancy, than those in any 
other living tongue, the Arab spirit and vivid eastern colour- 
ing that have so sensibly tinged all succeeding Spanish poetry 
are not to be mistaken. Thus, the poetic garden of ancient 
Castile, enriched by Portuguese art, redolent of Provencal 
fragrance, and decked with the choicest colours of Arabia, 
bloomed on in exquisite splendour. Under Charles the 
Fifth, who crowned Ariosto as the first poet of Italy, 
Grarcilaso and Boscan introduced the more artistic poetry of 
Italy into Spain, without, however, sacrificing the genius of 
their native language. At first, this innovation was ex- 
tremely unpalatable to a nation fondly attached to old 
associations, but in the sequel it had the happiest results. 
JSTo other poetry is made up of such varied elements, yet it 
must not by any means be supposed that these elements 
were heterogeneous or dissonant ; they were rather single 
notes of fancy and feeling, constituting thorough harmony 
when blended, and imparting to Spanish poetry the highest 
witchery of the romantic. This poetry is not only rich, but 
thoroughly one in spirit and tendency, and harmonizes with 
the national character and feeling. Since the glorious days 
of Ferdinand the Catholic and Charles the Fifth, no litera- 
ture has preserved so completely a national character as that 
of Spain. If literary works be judged by the principles of 
theoretic art, differences of opinion relative to the merits of 
this or that individual production, or a whole body of litera- 
ture, must necessarily be infinite, so that no unprejudiced 
estimate can be formed, and the first pure impression is lost, 
A much simpler standard for deciding literary worth exists : 
one combining lucid exposition with nice precision. It is 
that moral point of view which refers at once to the adapta- 
tion of literature to the national welfare and the national 
character. 

In this respect, every comparison that is instituted must 
needs result in favour of the Spaniards. Let us take, by 
way of example, the poetry and literature of Italy, which, if 
viewed on mere artistic grounds, unquestionably take prece- 
dence of many other countries, both as to polish and style: 
but how inferior in nationality to Spain ! Several of the 
leading poets are altogether destitute of national sympathies 
or relations, such as Boccacio, Ariosto, G-uarini ; or, as in 



SPANISH POETET. 249 

Petrarch, the national lyre awakens only scattered reminis- 
cences, blended with a false patriotism, as in the perverse 
admiration of Eienzi and the schemes of restoring the 
ancient republic. Dante and Machiavelli are the two most 
national writers : but to the former, with his bitter Ghibelline 
spirit so ill concealed whenever he alludes to the actual 
world and contemporary events, cannot be conceded the 
meed of universal or even general appreciation, for his 
poetico-religious visions are too fanciful to be intelligible to 
the multitude : whilst the Florentine politician advocates 
such pagan and destructive principles as to forfeit all claims 
to national consideration. 

How lofty, in this point of view, is Spanish literature and 
poetry ! Every part of them all is imbued with the noblest 
national feeling, severe, moral, and religious in tone, though 
the subject under treatment be not directly either morals or 
religion. Throughout their entire range, there is nothing 
in the remotest degree calculated to degrade the thinking 
faculty, to confuse the feelings, to pervert the judgment. 
Everywhere there is one and the same spirit of honour, of 
strict morality, and of firm religious belief. Allusion has 
already been made to the abundance of historical works, and 
to the manly eloquence so early developed and so long pre- 
served. Her poets, too, approve themselves to be, what 
they are, genuine Spaniards ! It might almost be said that 
artistic form of expression and of delineation constituted the 
sole difference of representation : of all, one style is eminently 
characteristic, the Spanish. National worth like this cannot 
fairly be judged by a standard of antique excellence, or of 
Italian taste, or the requirements of French refinement. 
With refereuce to so glorious a distinction, Spain is entitled 
to the first rank, England perhaps to the second. Not that 
the latter at all yields to the former in point of literary 
wealth or compass, but that her literature contains conflicting 
anti-national elements, coupled with obvious traces of abnormal 
development. The national unity of English literature nasbeen 
preserved in spite of all these difficulties, rather as the result 
of a tacitly acknowledged law than from its mere feeling and 
character. _ Nothing, however, is further from my design 
than to maintain that this national point of view is the only 
standard by means of which the intrinsic historical worth of 



250 GARCILASO. 

literature is to be fixed. It will, on the contrary, be my 
endeavour to illustrate hereafter the important consequences 
of an internal struggle to French as well as German litera- 
ture, which, provided it be not connected with petty interests, 
and made subservient to party purposes, must precede all 
beneficial chaDges. It is, as it were, the throes of regenera- 
tion, whence proceeds a new era in intellectual life, a purified 
recognition of the truth. 

Garcilaso and some of his contemporary poets, in the 
reign of Charles the Fifth, are reputed to be the models of 
refined diction and elevated taste. He was, no doubt, a 
respectable pattern, if not for direct imitation, yet for 
reference in later periods, in proportion as some poets have 
indulged in affectation and monstrosity : but I cannot sub- 
scribe to an opinion that Garcilaso and other poets of his 
time have reached perfection in poetical language, like Virgil 
among the Romans, or E-acine among the French. His 
poems challenge our regard chiefly as happy effusions of 
amatory feeling rather than great classical productions. A 
lyric and idyllic poet may shew this happy condition of 
language and poetry; but he cannot exhibit them in full 
perfection, because lyric poems are of too limited a compass 
and too confined in their import. An epic or dramatic poet 
alone can hope to be handed down as a permanent authority 
on questions of national art or diction. Spanish life of that 
age was still so chivalrous and rich, her European wars 
were so great and glorious, her adventures on the ocean and 
in the New World so wondrous and striking to the imagina- 
tion, as completely to distance, in thrilliug interest, the 
fictions of ancient chivalry. About this time, fantastic and 
grotesque elements of chivalric poetry were everywhere 
banished from epic verse : but the Spaniards fell into the 
opposite extreme of too rigid an adherence to historic de- 
tails.* This is a marked defect in Ercilla's celebrated epic — 
the Araucana — in which the wars of the Spaniards with a 
certain brave and independent American race, are sung or 
rather narrated. The aspect of the country, and of its fierce 
inhabitants, the wildernesses and natural phenomena, skir- 
mishes and pitched battles, are all depicted with a truthful- 

* See Critique, " North British Review" for May— "Philosophy of His- 
tory, Niebuhr, and Sir G. C. Lewis."— Transl. note. 



CA3IOE2TS. 251 

ness which makes us feel that the poet was evidently an eye 
and ear-witness. This, the earliest Spanish epic, here and 
there contains passages of poetic beauty, but, on the whole, 
the impression produced is that of a metrical narration of 
travels and campaigns. But epic verse should be composed 
of these two constituents : historic truth and grandeur as 
well as the free play of the Imagination in the marvellous ; 
the latter may be fictitious and legendary, or founded on 
fact. The Cid remains the only great national epic of the 
Spaniards. Cainoens, the Portuguese bard, was more suc- 
cessful than Ercilla in this department of literature. As the 
wild wastes of America had fallen to the lot of the Spa- 
niards, so richer India, a far happier subject, inspired the poet 
of Portugal. He, too, affords abundant internal proof of 
having been a soldier as well as mariner, an adventurer and 
circumnavigator. He lays great stress on the historical 
truth, and boasts that he means to beat Ariosto, by means of 
real incidents that shall surpass the heroic deeds of Rug- 
giero. # The commencement of this poem is strongly sug- 
gestive of Virgil, who then constituted the model of epic 
verse. But as the bold mariner soon loses sight of the 
coast, and ventures forth on the open sea, so Camoensis not 
long in departing from his great exemplar, and with his 
Gama, sails round the world, through dangers and storms, 
till he attains his aim and the joyful conquerors tread on the 
long wished for shore. A fragrance is shed over his poem 
like the fragrance wafted from India's spicy gales, invitiug 
and welcoming travellers to her shores. A southern glow 
animates each verse. The diction is simple and the purport 
serious : but in colouring and genial fancy he surpasses 
Ariosto, whose garland he aims to bear away. Gama and 
the discovery of India, are not the only themes which inspire 
the muse of Portugal : she sings the lordly rule and deeds of 
prowess of her nation in that land of conquest, and takes 
occasion to weave into her story all that was chivalrous, 
great, beautiful or noble in the traditions of his country. 
The name of Camoens enshrines the collective glories of his 
country. No bard of ancient or modern times was ever so 
intensely national : none, since the days of Homer, so 
honoured and beloved by his countrymen. Soon after his 
* One of -^riosto's heroes.— Transl. note. 



252 tasso. 

time, the sun of Portuguese splendour set : and the bard is 
the most valuable memorial bequeathed to us of the historic 
records and literary treasure of his native land. In the com- 
mencement, as at the conclusion, of his great epic, Camoens 
preeminently shines in the full dignity of a national poet : 
when he apostrophizes Sebastian, the youthful sovereign of 
Portugal — whose hapless fate foreshadowed his kingdom's 
fall — in strains of fond devotion mingled with admonitory 
exhortation, such as beseemed the aged soldier whose sword 
had often vindicated his country's honour. 

Tasso, who appeared somewhat later on the scene than 
Camoens, is moreover, nearer to ourselves by his language, 
and in part by his great Christian theme, which is most 
felicitously selected, on account of the combination of the 
chivalrous and marvellous with the sober reality of historic 
truth. The choice was extremely happy in connection with 
his own age : the contest between Christianity and the Ma- 
hometan powers was raging with unabated fury. Even in 
the reign of Charles the Fifth, the warriors of Spain enter- 
tained sanguine hopes of regaining Godfrey's conquests in 
the Holy Land, that had lapsed into other hands. The real- 
ization of these hopes seemed by no means extravagant at a 
period when the Spanish flag waved in triumph over the 
Mediterranean, or so difficult as the idea of checking the 
Turkish power in Europe. The no less ambitious than devo- 
tional bard was animated alike by a patriotic regard for 
Christianity and by enthusiasm for his art. But he cannot 
be said to have fully grasped the lofty elevation of his theme, 
or indeed to have done much more than lightly touch its 
surface. His genius was likewise cramped by too strict an 
imitation of the Yirgilian form, producing occasional confu- 
sion in the machinery of his epic. Yet this same idea of a 
necessary form for an epic, did not prevent Camoens from 
interweaving into his poem whatever could adorn a national 
heroic poem and from doing full justice to his subject. Tasso 
could not have effected so much, even had he comprehended 
the construction of epic verse more thoroughly than he did. 
He is one of those who can more readily express their inner 
feelings and ideas, than depict the outward world of action 
and therein merge their own individuality. The finest pas- 
sages in his poem are just those which would appear equally 



TASSO. 253 

beautiful and attractive as episodes in any other, being 
totally unconnected with the main subject. Tasso enchants 
his reader by a glowing delineation of Arroida's captiva- 
ting charms, Clorinda's faultless beauty, and Ermina's gentle 
love. Poetic creations, concerning whom the German bard* 
puts these words into Tasso's own mouth : — 
" They are not shadows, offspring 1 of delusion, 
I know it — they are eternal, for they are." — Goetlie. 

In Tasso's lyrical poems there is a. glow of passion and an 
inspiration of unfortunate love which delight us even more 
than the little pastoral Aminta, warmed as that is by love's 
own glow, especially when contrasted with the cold severity 
of Petrarch's art. Tasso is altogether the poet of the feel- 
ings, and just as Ariosto is famous for his picturesque beauty, 
so Tasso's verse rings with harmonious melody: this, no 
doubt, has contributed not a little to endear him to his coun- 
trymen, and render him their favourite minstrel. The epi- 
sodes in his epic have often been sung with or without mu- 
sical accompaniment ; the Italians possess no actual romances 
similar to those of the Spaniards, hence they turn portions 
of their great epic into ballads, at once the most musical, 
poetical, and noble of which any people can boast. Perhaps 
this mode of dividing into fragments their national lay, was 
best calculated for enjoyment and for feeling ; what of con- 
nection was thus sacrificed, constituted no great loss. His 
numerous alterations and failures attest his inadequate com- 
prehension of the structure of epic verse. His first effort 
resulted in chivalric song : he set about remodelling his 
Jerusalem Delivered, on which his fame was founded, at an 
age when poetic fire has lost somewhat of its glow ; he 
sacrificed the most beautiful and attractive passages to the 
severe morality he had adopted, and introduced a frigid alle- 
gory. He resolved on the composition of a Christian epic 
relative to the Creation. It is unnecessary to explain in 
detail the difficulties that beset the most successful bard in 
expanding the few and partly mysterious expressions of 
Moses into as many complete cantos. The poetical treat- 
ment of such themes was fully considered on the occasion of 
our examining Dante's merits, and the sole reason why Tas- 
so's poem is mentioned here is, that this it was which Milton 

* The allusion is to Goethe's <* Torguato Tasso," Act II. sc. l.—Transl. 
note. 



254i tasso. 

had before his eye. In this poem of the Creation, Tasso 
dispensed with rhyme, to which his other compositions owe 
so much of their charms, and an instrument over which few 
bards had greater mastery than himself. So severe were the 
conditions he imposed upon his genius : but among so many 
beauties, we ought not to judge him too harshly, when we 
convict him of occasional conceits. For what will be left 
of poetry after we have denied it the free play of the imagi- 
nation ? If each thought is so strictly tried and dissected, 
at last nothing will be left but spiritless prose. Even in 
prose, we shall find in the purest writers, on a close analysis, 
here and there, images, which strictly taken, are not correct 
throughout, and contain something false. Not a few of 
Tasso' s poetic conceits are both pregnant with meaning and 
artistically beautiful. To a poet of the feelings and of the 
gentle passion, such a license, if it be a license, is readily 
conceded. It is found in the love-elegies of the ancients, 
which are wont to be held up as the Gorgon's head, a terri- 
ble image of classic severity, to the roving fancy of romantic 
minstrels. 

If, then, Tasso be regarded as a musical poet of the feel- 
ings, his uniformity and thorough sentimentality ought 
scarcely to be imputed to him as a fault. Uniformity ap- 
pears to be well nigh inseparable from poetry that is essen- 
tially lyric : there is, rather, considerable beauty in the soft 
elegiac tones which apostrophize those charms that appeal to 
the senses. The Epic poet, on the other hand, must be 
more copious and varied. He must embrace a world of cir- 
cumstances, the spirit of the past and present, of his nation, 
and of nature. He must be skilled to touch each chord of 
human passion, his strain must not be monotonous. In this 
epic richness Camoens is far superior to Tasso : in the grand 
heroic of the former there are passages whose tender deli- 
cacy yields not to Tasso's choicest lines : his lay, though 
warmed by southern fancy, often breathes a loving plaint of 
sorrow, whilst the rapturous inspiration of the gentle passion 
elevates his verse to the dignity of a romantic epic. He 
blends the picturesque fulness of Ariosto with the musical 
enchantment of Tasso, and superadds the earnest grandeur 
of that genuine heroic element which Tasso longed for but 
never attained. 



GUAMNI. 255 

After what lias been said it may seem almost superfluous 
to add that of those three great epic bards of the moderns 
— Ariosto, Camoens, Tasso, — the palm of excellence is, in my 
estimation, due to the second. Yet I freely admit that per- 
sonal feeliugs are somewhat concerned in coming to a con- 
clusion on subjects like these. Of the qualities and faculties 
constituting genuine poetic worth, few only are referable to 
definite ideas and fixed principles : the greater part are de- 
cided by the peculiar bent of individual feelings and views. 
Tasso's reply to one that asked him who was the greatest of 
Italian poets, is a case in point. He replied not without 
emotion, "Ariosto is the second!" The self esteem of 
poets is easily wounded, and that of their admirers is equally 
sensitive. 

In Tasso Italian verse exhibited the old Roman dignity, 
without, however, sacrificing any of its natural beauties. 
After his time, there was an ever-increasing proneness to 
adopt the antique, not in style and form alone, but also in the 
choice of subjects. Guarini, like Tasso, an erotic poet, and 
the last of any note, who flourished in the best days of 
Italian literature, exhibits greater richness of thought than 
Tasso, and is likewise more concise as well as elevated in 
his style. But in the love songs of Tasso the current of 
feeling is more natural and more powerful. His arcadian 
drama, Pastor fido (the faithful shepherd)* though no ela- 
borate imitation but rather a genuine effusion of his own 
feelings, is impressed with true classic spirit, and in its noble 
proportions reminds us of the Grecian drama in its palmy 
days. Dramatic composition cannot, as a whole, be said to 
constitute a distinguished feature of older Italian literature : 
all earlier efforts to revive ancient tragedy were virtually 
failures, remaining, at the best, unsuccessful and vapid imi- 
tations ; for this, the excellence attained in a peculiar species 
of the drama makes ample amends. Foreign nations were 
charmed with the novelty: no other Italian poet has been 
so extensively translated, read, and admired. In France, 
Guarini continued to be looked upon as a high standard of 
poetic composition, until the appearance of Corneille's Cid. 

* It may be fairly presumed that this suggested to Allan Ramsay the 
idea of his exquisite Scottish pastoral drama — " The gentle Shepherd." 



256 GUAEINI. 

Judged "by severe dramatic rules,his production was not calcu- 
lated to open up a novel path, or found a new stage, for its de- 
ficiencies when thus viewed were strikingly apparent. The lyric 
muse of Italy probably never took a bolder flight than in se- 
veral choruses and other passages of this poem. Attention has 
also been directed to the play of thought in romantic erotic 
minstrels, and on the Italian concetti, when speaking of 
Tasso. The same ground of justification may be allowed to 
G-uarini : only that in him the matter is aggravated by occa- 
sional affectation, and is less happily conceived. Passages 
might be cited not unworthy of the dignified earnestness of 
a great poet of antiquity, but he stands on the frontiers of 
elegant refinement and of voluptuous taste which is found 
most abundantly in Marino. In him everything luxuriant and 
effeminate, which is to be found in Ovid and the other 
ancient amatory poets, and all that is playful in Petrarch, 
Tasso, and G-uarini, are blended together in a sea of poetic 
sweetness which is the more disagreeable to a correct taste 
because his playfulness appears not to proceed from nature 
and his own feelings, but to be the result of imitation. 

Such was the fate of the earlier Italian muse when she at- 
tempted to effect a coalition, in erotic minstrelsy, of ancient 
mythology and art with the natural transports of the ro- 
mantic school. 

The poetry and literature of Spain long maintained a 
happy independence and noble bearing in its separated ex- 
istence. Imitation of antique models could spread abroad 
neither so extensive nor so pernicious an influence in a 
country pre-eminently distinguished for vigorous national 
feeling. Poetry became the willing handmaid of the present : 
romance achieved an excellence unparalleled in other lands : 
the stage acquired an almost incalculable store of materials, 
of a shape and form altogether peculiar. 

There is not, in reality, any one period in Spanish poesy 
that may be regarded and represented as a standard of per- 
fection for all other periods : since, although Garcilaso and 
some of the earlier bards have by some critics been espe- 
cially commended for classic grace, the praise so bestowed is 
due only in a restricted sense. The poetic diction of Spain was 
ever free. Too much art and poetry may have been lavished 
upon it, but it has never been subjected to any universal rule, 



CERVANTES. 257 

excepting the prevalent system of metre. A circumstance 
peculiarly remarkable, inasmuch as Spanish prose was from 
the earliest times singularly subject to systematic rules. 
Nice precision became its second nature, so much so that 
whilst the prose of other countries commonly degenerates into 
negligent confusion, the greatest danger which threatened 
that of Spain was a tendency to refining subtlety, a fault 
which they call Ahudeza. From such over-precision, how- 
ever, the best writers are thoroughly exempt. Of these, Cer- 
vantes is indisputably the first and most perfect, presenting 
a model of elegant perfection and artistic proportions such 
as her poetry never knew. And yet the very absence of a 
similar original in the domains of poetry was extremely 
favourable to the promotion of animated grace and the un- 
fettered development of inventive fancy. 

The admiration of collective Europe for more than two 
centuries is a just tribute of homage to the surpassing genius 
of Cervantes. The qualities on which these claims are 
grounded are matchless perfection of style and representa- 
tion, combined with brilliant wit and life-like portraiture 
of Spanish character and manners. Hence, his romance is ever 
fresh and sparkling, whilst the many imitations it has sug- 
gested to second-rate writers, in Spain itself, in France, and 
England, have either sunk into oblivion, or are on their way 
to it. The remarks previously advanced on the subject of 
poetic witticism apply here in full force. The poet who cul- 
tivates these regions of literature ought to assert, and esta- 
blish, his claim to the title by the richest poetic vein, by 
consummate artistic form, and by an elegant finish. Those 
are clearly in error who would pick out the pure satire from the 
romance of Cervantes, and throw aside the poetry. The latter 
may not be equally gratifying to the taste of foreign nations, 
but it is thoroughly Spanish. "Whosoever chooses to examine 
more minutely will find that this glorious delineation com- 
bines just so much of jocund pleasantry with sober earnest, 
caustic irony with gentle poetry, as is calculated to give 
effect to the contrast, and produce agreeable impressions. 
The regaining prose works of Cervantes, including eclogues, 
novels and a pilgrim-romance* — his final effort — partake more 

• English translations of the novels of Cervantes, and his Persiles and 
Sigismunda, are published in Bonn's Standard Library. 

S 



258 MODERN BOMANCE. 

or less of the charms that distinguish Don Quixote : though 
this latter is superior in inventive fulness, and appears the 
more inimitable the more it is imitated. Don Quixote is, 
in truth, peculiarly Spanish in all its characteristics: it 
constitutes the pride and boast of Spaniards. Its vivid 
colouring and faithful yet graphic sketches of national life, 
manners, and genius, with all its kindred associations, entitle 
it to be classed with the best productions of the epic muse. 



LECTUBE XII. 



Romance. — Dramatic Poetry of Spain. — Spenser, 
Shakspere, Milton. — Age oe Louis XIV. — French 
Tragedy. 

Notwithstanding its intrinsic excellence, the romance 
of Cervantes has been a dangerous model for imitation by 
the rest of Europe. Unique and inimitable of its kind, it 
has originated the whole modern romance in France, Eng- 
land, and Germany, and has occasioned a vast number of 
unsuccessful attempts to elevate a prosaic representation of 
the realities of the present to the dignity of poetry. To say 
nothing of the original genius of Cervantes, which permitted 
the expression of much that would not have been desirable 
in any successor, the peculiar relations and circumstances 
under which he cultivated prose fiction, so to speak, were im- 
measurably more advantageous than those of subsequent 
times. Real life was, in Spain, still tinged with a romantic 
chivalry that had long been exploded in other countries. 
The absence of strict municipal organization, and the free 
or rather lawless life of those who lived in the provinces, 
were of themselves calculated to favour the conditions of 
poetry. 

In all these attempts to raise the realities of Spanish life 
by means of the witty and the marvellous, or by the excite- 
ment of thought and feeling to a species of poetic fiction, 
there is an anxiety on the part of the authors to create a 



MODERN ROMANCE. 259 

poetic distance, be it the sunny skies of southern Italy or 
the wilds and forests of America. But, even when the 
narrative is comprehended within the sphere of native social 
life, there is still a manifest anxiety, so long as the whole has 
not resolved itself into mere humour and jest, to escape in 
some measure from the contracted limits of actual reality, 
and emerge into the spacious domains of fancy: this is alike 
applicable to travels, duels, elopements, and to adventures 
with banditti, or to a company of strolling players. 

The romantic element in many of these second-rate 
romances, even in the less objectionable ones, appears to 
coincide very closely with a state of morals disposed to set 
at defiance magisterial authority. I am reminded here of 
the observation of a celebrated philosopher, who conceived 
that whenever the economy of municipal arrangements shall 
be perfected in general police so as to prevent all contraband 
trading, and so vigilantly detective as to sketch not only the 
physiognomy but also the biography of every traveller on his 
passport, romance will become obsolete, from the want of 
necessary materials. This view, however singular it may 
appear at first sight, is not without its foundation in truth. 

To determine the genial and essential relations of poetry 
to the present and to the past, is equivalent to an analysis of 
the constitution of art. With the exception of a few common- 
place definitions of taste and beauty, and erroneous opinions 
on kindred topics, our ordinary theories treat only of the 
various forms of poetry which, whilst they are necessary 
branches of knowledge, are by no means of exclusive or 
indeed of the highest importance. As yet no theory has been 
broached conveying adequate information respecting the 
proper materials of poetry, though it will scarcely be denied 
that this is very important in relation to life. In the present 
course of lectures I have endeavoured to supply this defect, 
and to present such a theory whenever an opportunity has 
presented itself. 

It were a false canon of criticism to maintain that the 
present is necessarily more unfit for poetic delineation 
simply because it is, intrinsically, of more ordinary and 
ignoble elements than the past. That which is mean, 
doubtless strikes us with greater significancy and force 
when present to our gaze and close at hand : in the back- 
ground of memory nobler shapes stand out in full relief, and 



260 LEGITIMATE SUBJECTS OF POETEY. 

thus hide much that is insignificant or unsightly. But it is 
competent for a true poet to overcome difficulties of this 
nature : it is his very province to shed a refulgence over the 
ordinary events of daily life, and to invest them with a higher 
importance, a deeper meaning. It were in vain, however, to 
gainsay the confining shackles of the present, or ignore the 
restraint it puts upon the fancy : if this latter be unneces- 
sarily or immoderately restricted, it will indemnify itself by 
a greater licence in regard to language and description. 

To express my views on this point in the shortest and 
clearest manner, I would repeat my previous remarks in 
reference to religious and christian subjects of representa- 
tion. The invisible world, the Deity, and pure spirits, can- 
not be directly presented to us ; nature and human beings 
are the legitimate and immediate themes of poetry. But 
that higher and spiritual world may be embodied in our 
earthly material, and its glories indistinctly shadowed forth. 
In like manner, indirect representation is most appropriate 
to the description of present reality. The choicest bloom of 
young life, and the highest ecstacy of passion, the rich ful- 
ness of an enlightened survey of the world, may all be easily 
transported into the traditionary past, whether longer or 
shorter, of a nation ; they gain there an incomparably wider 
field, and appear in a purer light. Homer, the oldest poet 
of the past known to us, also exhibits the present in the 
liveliest and freshest manner. The true poet embodies his 
own age, and, in some measure, himself, in his delineation of 
previous times. The following appears to me to be the 
correct and true relation of poetry to time. The proper 
business of poetry seems to be a representation of the eter- 
nal, the ever-important, and universally beautiful : but this 
is impracticable without a veil. A material basis is required ; 
and this is found in her own peculiar sphere, that of legend- 
ary or national reminiscences. In her representation of 
these she transfers the rich treasure s of the present — in so far 
as they admit of poetic treatment — and since she explains the 
enigma of existence and the intricacies of life as far as they 
are capable of solution, whilst prefiguring the bright glory of 
all things in her magic mirror, she reflects the lustre of the 
future, the dawning streaks of approaching spring. Thus 
harmoniously blending all times and seasons, the past, the 



SPANISH FICTION. 261 

present, and the future, she proves herself to be the truthful 
representation of the eternal, or of perfected time. In a 
strictly philosophic sense the eternal is no nonentity, no 
mere negation of time, but rather its entire undivided ful- 
ness, in which all its elements are not torn asunder, but 
intimately blended ; a condition in which past love blooms 
anew in the unfading reality of an abiding remembrance, 
and the life of the present carries in it the germs of future 
hope and of continually increasing splendour. 

Yet, though as a whole the indirect representation of 
present realities has been held to be most suitable for 
poetry, it is not intended indiscriminately to censure all 
intellectual creations moulded on opposite principles. We 
must distinguish between the artist and his productions. 
The genuine poet rises superior to the errors of the form he 
has selected, and displays his greatness even in works that, 
owing to their original construction, must needs stop short 
of perfection. Milton and Klopstock command our homage, 
although it cannot be denied that they imposed upon their 
powers a task to which they were inadequate. 

For the same reasons, Bichardson, who sought to lift 
modern reality to the regions of the poetic in a manner 
widely differing from the fancy of Cervantes, justly claims 
the tribute of our admiration for his great talent of descrip- 
tion, notwithstanding the partial failure of his high aim 
owing to the imperfection of his plan. 

Spanish notion displays incomparably greater richness in 
the drama than in romance. Lyric poetry of the feelings 
is the fruit of love and enthusiasm, nurtured in retirement : 
even when quitting the narrow precincts of contiguous 
objects, it seizes on an age and nation for its topics, it still 
bears marks of its origin. Heroic poetry, however, implies 
the existence of a nation, one which either is, or has been : a 
nation which has recollections, and a great past, rich in 
legendary lore, with an original poetic mode of thinking, 
and a mythology. Both lyric and epic poetry are much 
more the offspring of nature than of art : dramatic verse, on 
the other hand, is a production of the state, of civil and 
social life, and accordingly requires some great central arena 
for its development. Such is the more natural as well as 
more favourable condition of its success, though at times 



262 SPANISH DRAMA. 

there have been lesser circles of its operation challenging, if 
not surpassing, the original metropolitan seats of dramatic 
art. Hence, it is easily intelligible how the stage attained 
to mature excellence and distinction in Madrid, London, and 
Paris, more than a century before the very formation of a 
national drama in either Italy or Germany. For though 
Borne has early been the chief seat of the Church ; and 
Vienna, since the fifteenth century, the metropolis of the 
German empire, yet both of these were not central points of 
their respective nations in an equal degree with the three 
great capitals of the European West. 

Just as the Spanish monarchy, until the middle of the 
seventeenth century, was the most illustrious in Europe, and 
Spanish nationality had attained the utmost degree of deve- 
lopment, so the stage, that holds the mirror up to national 
manners and usages, early bloomed in richest prodigality at 
Madrid. The res I; of Europe has never been slow to recog- 
nize the fulness of invention, though it may not have equally 
prized the significancy and spirit of the Spanish drama. But 
if it even possessed no other advantage than that of being 
thoroughly romantic, this alone would be sufficient to render 
it remarkable; it would be instructive to see what sort of 
dramatic invention could proceed from chivalric poetry, as co- 
loured by the fancy peculiar to mediaeval and modern Europe. 
3To other nation is competent to furnish so valuable an 
instance of this process, inasmuch as none remained equally 
free from all influence and imitation of the antique. Italy 
and Erance, in the formation of their theatre, were actuated 
by the wish of restoring the tragedy as well as comedy of the 
Greeks in pristine purity, whilst the English drama was 
itself not uninfluenced by Seneca and the older Erench 
plays. ^ _ .''''. 

If we estimate the Spanish stage according to its first re- 
nowned writer and master, Lope de Vega its general excel- 
lencies will appear only in dim and faint outline, and give us 
no very exalted idea of its merits, so slight and superficial is 
the design of his almost countless pieces. The uniformity 
or at least general similarity which mostly characterizes the 
pieces of a lyric poet is equally apparent in the works of 
a dramatic poet, which of course facilitates and tends to mul- 
tiply his productions. The entire dramatic efforts, not only 
of one composer, but of a whole period and of a col- 



LOPE DE VEGA. 263 

lective people, are not unfrequently grounded on some 
one leading Idea, essentially the same in all, but variously 
modified and conveyed: like so many variations of one 
theme, or solutions of the same problem. If, then, this 
idea be clearly comprehended, and the form most fit- 
ting both the idea and the stage be selected, if a thorough 
mastery over diction and theatrical effect be achieved, the 
writer may contrive to throw off a large number of artistic 
productions without any apparent negligence. In this way 
the great dramatists of antiquity severally produced more than 
a hundred plays. Nevertheless, the dramatic compositions 
of Lope exceed the utmost limits of legitimate fertility. 
The greater part of them must needs have been improvised 
rather than studiously prepared. Granted that Lope was 
the most rapid dramatic composer of any age or nation, 
most poetic in innate genius, of richest invention, most 
glowing in fancy : qualities, some of which are so common 
to the poets of his country as scarcely to admit of individual 
commendation. Yet, in spite of Lope's singular talent and 
fertile imagination, a succession of dramatic efforts so rapid, 
is justifiable neither in an artistic nor a moral point of 
view. Order and strict law are the more indispensable to 
the stage, because in no other species of composition are 
negligence and corruption so easily tolerated, and no other is 
equally calculated mutually to injure the artist and the 
public. Our own German stage abounds in recent examples 
of the facility with which the dramatist, if endowed with 
happy and impassionable genius, like Lope, or even without 
the aid of his splendid faculties, may transport his age be- 
yond the limits of reason and prudence, and by a dexterous 
application of his powers blunt the finer sensibilities of his 
nation. On the other hand, theatrical applause is, of all 
incense, the most exciting and irresistible in its operation on 
the vanity of a poet. It is the public that, for the most 
part, confirms its favourite in his worst faults, and tempts 
him to surrender himself to them without limit or controul. 
This tendency to demagogic licence and anarchy, inherent in 
the drama,didnot escape the keen observation of the ancients, 
who often animadverted upon it, though that art had attained 
to high perfection in their day. 

However much the art of improvising may be recom- 



2G1 CALDEEON. 

mended for the purposes of popular poetry, or some other 
sphere, it is totally inapplicable to the drama. The drama 
must be treated in an artistic manner ; even if the execution 
be rapid and yet successful, the design at least must be con- 
trived with deliberate care. Otherwise, the stage will, at the 
best, convey only ephemeral impressions of life, with its per- 
plexities and passions : and will reflect the mere glittering 
surface without a single glance into its hidden depths. On 
this, the lowest, step of dramatic art, stands Lope, with some 
of the ordinary dramatists of Spain at his side. They shine, 
indeed, with poetic brilliancy if we compare their productions 
with the far deeper degeneracy of the stage among other 
nations : but they do not in any way satisfy the exigencies 
of high art. How rarely individuals or nations are disposed 
to agree upon the precise terms of those exigencies, is abun- 
dantly attested by the fact, that so many regard Lope and 
Calderon as poets of the same order, though they are separ- 
ated by an almost immeasurable interval. "Whoever would 
apprehend aright the genius of the Spanish stage must study 
Calderon, the last and greatest of all Spanish poets. 

Before his time, Spanish poetry was divided between rude- 
ness on the one hand, and affectation on the other, which 
not unfrequently met in the same composition. The influ- 
ence of Lope's pernicious example was not restricted to the 
drama. Intoxicated by theatrical applause, he shared the 
vanity of poets who have attempted many distinct kinds of 
composition, and sought to shine in those for which he had 
no talent. Not content with the homage rendered him as 
the prince of living dramatists, he was ambitious of writing 
romances like Cervantes, and heroic poems like Ariosto and 
Tasso. Thus his slipshod style and manner were carried 
beyond the walls of the theatre : whilst Gongora and Que- 
vedo were at the same period in the full exercise of artificiality 
in sentiment as well as expression. In the midst of corruption 
such as this Calderon lived, and from these chaotic elements 
he had to rescue the poetry of his land, to ennoble and purify 
it in the flames of love, and redirect it to its lofty aim. 

This process of Spanish poetry, namely, its transition 
from the lowest stage of dissolute lawlessness and false 
refinement, to the summit of genuine art, until it closed in 
the full bloom of loveliness, is singularly interesting. It 



THE DRAMATIC ART. 2G5 

may serve, if properly examined, to correct the erroneous 
notions which prevail respecting the regular progress and 
decline of art, with special and instructive reference to the 
literature and poetry of our own age and nation ; when we 
see how, from the depths of a voluptuous degeneracy and a 
lifeless affectation, the imagination and poetry of Spain, 
shining with new splendour, rose with renovated youth like 
the Phoenix from its ashes. 

Previous to describing the genius of the Spanish stage, as 
manifested in perfect completeness in Calderon, it is neces- 
sary to take a cursory glance at the essence of the dramatic 
art generally, according to my own views of it. In the first 
and lowest scale of the drama, then, I place those pieces in 
which we are presented with only the visible surface of 
life, — mere fleeting sketches of the world's panorama. And 
though all the keys of tragic passion were sounded from 
the highest to the lowest, though social refinement were 
correctly pourtrayed in comedy ; yet, so long as the whole 
is confined to external appearances alone, a mere pleasing 
perspective for the eye to dwell upon, or an impulsive pathos 
to thrill the heart, this would still be their inferior position. 
The second place in the scale of dramatic art is due to 
effective representations of human passion where the deeper 
shades and springs of action are pourtrayed : a delinea- 
tion of characteristics, not individual, but general, of the 
world and of life, in manifold variety, their inconsistencies 
and their perplexing intricacies : in a word, a picture of man 
and his existence, recognized as an enigma and treated as 
such. Did the aim of dramatic art purely consist of these 
important significant characteristics, not only would Shak- 
spere be entitled to rank as the first dramatist in the world, 
but there could scarcely be found a single poet, ancient or 
modern, worthy for a moment to be compared with him. 
But I conceive that the stage has yet another and a loftier 
aim. Instead of merely describing the enigma of existence, 
it should also solve it : extricate life from the tangled con- 
fusion of the present, and conduct it through the crisis of 
development to its final issue. Its penetrating glance thus 
extends to the realms of futurity, where every hidden thing 
becomes exposed to view, and the most complicated web is 
unravelled ; raising the mortal veil, it permits us to scan the 
secrets of an invisible world, reflected from the mirror of a 



266 THE DEAMATIO ART. 

seer's fancy, it shews the soul how the inner life is formed 
by outward conflict, which results in the decisive victory of 
the immortal over the mortal. This altogether differs from 
what is commonly called the catastrophe in a tragedy. 
Many dramatic works are entirely deficient in this final solu- 
tion as here indicated, or if they allude to it at all, they do 
so simply in external form, without the slightest reference to 
the inner essence or spirit. This reminds me of Dante's 
three worlds, and the graphic force with which he intro- 
duces to our notice a series of living natures ; first, the 
lowest abyss of perdition, then an intermediate state of suf- 
fering cheered by hope, till he brings us to the highest eleva- 
tion of glory. All this may be applied to the drama ; a 
circumstance which would entitle Dante to rank, in a cer- 
tain sense, as a dramatic poet, save only that he presents 
us with a long series of catastrophes without sufficient 
explanation of previous phases of development. On the 
principle of that threefold solution of human destiny, three 
modes of lofty serious dramatic art may be enumerated, re- 
ferring to the hidden spirit and the ultimate goal of life. In 
one of these the hero falls hopeless ; in another the whole 
closes with a mixed satisfaction and reconciliation, still par- 
tially painful ; in a third, a new life and the glorification of the 
inner man arise out of death and suffering. In illustration of 
the first of these species, involving heroic unmitigated ruin, 
I will only cite, among a host of modern examples, Wallen- 
stein, Macbeth, and the Faust of popular story. The 
dramatic art of the ancients inclines with decided par- 
tiality to this altogether tragical catastrophe, which accorded 
well with their belief in a terrible predestinating fate. The 
excellence of this form is perhaps enhanced by the hero's 
ruin seeming to depend not so much on the arbitrary decrees 
of fate, as on his own voluntary and gradual approach to 
destruction, in the full exercise of free-will, as in the above- 
named tragedies. 

This, then, is, upon the whole, the prevalent form of 
ancient tragedy. The second, or intermediate expiatory 
form, is likewise found in the works of the two leading tra- 
gedians of classic times. After disclosing the abyss of suf- 
fering and crime iu the death of Agamemnon and the 
revengeful deed of Orestes, iEschylus, in his Eumenides, 
finishes the awful tableau with the acquittal of the unhappy 



CHEISTIAN POETEY. 267 

sufferer by a merciful oracular response. When Sophocles 
has melted our hearts by depicting the blindness and fate of 
CEdipus, the internecine fratricide of his twin sons, the long 
sorrows of the blind old man, and of his faithful nurse and 
daughter, he presents his death as a transition to the recon- 
ciled deities, in so beautiful a light, as to stir up within us 
feelings more pensive than painful. There are, indeed, many 
similar examples of this form of tragedy, both in ancient and 
modern writers, but few of them so noble and beautiful as 
those just mentioned. 

The third and last mode of dramatic conclusion, in which 
extreme suffering is represented as issuing in a state of spi- 
ritual transfiguration, is especially suited to the Christian 
poet, and of these Calderon is ud questionably the most 
eminent. In his serious pieces of historic or tragic import, 
such as his " A doration of the Cross" and " The Steadfast 
Prince," this is more readily as well as strikingly appa- 
rent : and these, selected from abundance of his productions, 
will suffice to illustrate my meaning. Neither is this tho- 
roughly Christian Idea contained in the subject alone, but 
still more completely in the peculiar characteristics of senti- 
ment and treatment pervading the whole of Calderon's 
efforts. In subjects of which the matter by no means sug- 
gested a glorious transition from suffering and death to a 
new aud brighter existence, all is stamped with the impress 
of Christian charity and purification, and radiant with hea- 
venly tints. Under every condition and circumstance Cal- 
deron is, of all dramatic poets, the most Christian, and for 
that reason the most romantic. 

The development and peculiar form of Christian poetry 
are materially influenced by two facts : first, that it was 
everywhere preceded by a heathen poetry, of which the recol- 
lections were never wholly lost, even after the nations had 
become Christian ; and, next, that it needed not to be based 
on any mythology of its own. There were two ways in 
which Christianity and Poetry were sought to be harmo- 
niously blended. The one, Christian symbolism, included 
not only life but likewise the world and nature generally : 
whereby the full splendour of spiritual beauty was irradi- 
ated by the pure light of truth,, and was thus enabled to 
serve Christian art as a substitute for pagan mythology. 



2G8 CHRISTIAN POETRY. 

This symbolism, emanating as far as possible from Christia- 
nity itself, and tinging all considerations of the world and of 
life, is the leading feature of the older allegorical school 
of Italian poets, and constitutes the essential distinc- 
tion between them and the strictly romantic school from 
which they kept aloof with such jealous care. Their attempt 
at a symbolical treatment of life, nature, and the world, was 
grand and captivating, and succeeded in a high degree in 
Painting, but it never satisfied the strict requirements of 
poetic art ; not even in Dante, much less in his successors 
Tasso and Milton. The other mould in which modern poetry 
may be cast, is that proceeding not from a poem compre- 
hending the Christian cosmogony, but from individual life ; 
from legend, and even from fragmentary portions of pagan 
myth, when admitting of exalted spiritual interpretation; 
coupled with earnest endeavours to blend isolated poetic 
notes into one ravishing strain of Christian harmony. Of 
this form Calderon is the noblest and most distinguished 
writer, whilst Dante is at the head of Christian poets, who 
have attuned their lyre in the first-named key. And this 
latter form, namely, not the introduction of celestial sym- 
bolism, as a whole, into the midst of the phenomena of every- 
day existence, but the purification of life, and all its several 
accords, by means of beauty symbolized and ennobled, con- ■ 
stitutes the distinctive mark of the Eom antic, as contrasted 
with Christian allegory. 

Inasmuch as Spanish poetry generally remained free from 
foreign influence, and to the last maintained its purely 
romantic character, whilst the Christian chivalric poesy of 
mediaeval Spain survived the period of modern culture, and 
attained to the highest degree of artistic perfection, it may 
here be desirable to convey to you some account of the 
precise nature of the Semantic. In addition to that intimate 
junction with the individualities of life alluded to above, and 
which constitutes it essentially a legendary poetry, as distin- 
guished from a poetry of mere allegorical thought, the Ro- 
mantic is based on sentiments of love, blending Christianity 
with genuine minstrelsy ; sentiments employing suffering 
and sorrow as instruments of purification, exchanging the 
tragic earnestness of pagan mythology for a genial play of 
fancy, and selecting those forms of representation and lan- 
guage which best harmonize with feelings of tenderness and 



ROMANTIC POETEY. 269 

love. In this extended signification, all poetry might seem to 
be of the Eomantic cast, suppposing that term to designate 
Christian beauty and poetry. In fact, the Eomantic is not 
really antagonistic to the true antique. The Trojan legends, the 
Homeric songs are thoroughly Eomantic : so in the case of 
all that is absolutely poetical in the minstrelsy of Hindostan, 
of Persia, and other oriental or north-European nations. The 
poetic school of northern Europe differs from the actual 
Eomantic only in its more copious pagan relics :* hence, it is 
marked by more profound natural feeling joined to an infe- 
rior degree of Christian beauty and purity of fancy. But 
wheresoever exalted views of life are enunciated feelingly 
and with enthusiastic presentiment of veiled significancy, 
there are small notes of that divine chaunt of love of which 
the full harmony is first found in Christianity. Ancient tra- 
gedy, despite of its generally gloomy impressions, is occasion- 
ally resonant with strains of this sort : genuine love sheds a 
lustre over generous hearts in the midst of pervading error 
and false images of horror. It is not the inimitable compo- 
sition alone of iEschylus and Sophocles that we admire, but 
likewise their sentiment and profound feeling. The Eoman- 
tic element is not opposed to the great masters of antiquity, 
but to imitators who have risen up among us, who assume 
the form without the inward love. Thus it is obviously 
not repugnant to the real essence of the antique, but 
rather to the false soul-less models that in our own time 
have been set up for imitation : as also to that modern 
standard which vainly seeks to influence life by slavishly 
adhering to the present, and thus becomes amenable to the 
joint tyranny of time and fashion, however refined may be 
the aim or the subject. 

Of all Eomantic poets Calderon comes nearest in spirit as 
well as feeling to the older Allegorical school of Dante and 
the early Italian bards, as does Shakspere to the northern 
school. Under the head of Allegory, in its correct accepta- 
tion, I would comprise the abstract essence of Christian 
figure and symbol, the expression, veil, or mirror, of an 
invisible world, according to our Christian conceptions. This 
is the spirit or soul of Christian poetry ; the legends of 

* On this subject see Mallet's Northern Antiquities, revised by Black- 
well, 12mo. 1847. 



270 CHRISTIAN ALLEGORY. 

romance and the national life form its body or outward 
material. After his own fashion Calderon has fixed this 
symbolism, by proceeding from individuality to life's manifold 
variety, as fully and deeply as Dante. In Calderon, who is, 
as it were, the last echo of the mediaeval Catholicism, or as 
the rays of its setting sun, this regeneration and christian 
transfiguration of the Imagination, which characterizes his 
genius and poetry, obtained their highest perfection. Chris- 
tian Allegory is not a simple popular poetry, scattered into 
fragments or consisting only of outward forms, but a con- 
scious poetry of the invisible. Its business is to re-unite 
what was separated by the ancients — the severe symbolism 
of mystery with actual myth or modern epic. This is a 
symbolism of Truth, on the one hand, based on psychological 
principles, or the native depths of the soul, as in Shakspere ; 
on the other, resulting in Christian transfiguration, as in 
Calderon. 

It will easily be understood that between these three kinds 
of dramatic conclusion and representation — of hopeless de- 
struction, reconciliation, and glorification — there are several 
dramatic gradations and combinations. It was only for the 
purpose of clearly defining the conceptions of high dramatic 
art, which consists not merely in skimming over the surface 
of life but penetrates its depths, and advances to its grand 
aim, that I have represented these three chief modes as 
markedly distinct and determined. The very antithesis of 
the antique and the modern, as has been already pointed 
out, is by no means complete or even positive, but rests on 
a greater or less preponderance of certain constituent ele- 
ments. Whilst here and there instances may be found in 
which the issues of ancient drama tended to heroic glorifica- 
tion, examples of modern tragedy might be adduced equalling 
in power the most terrible catastrophes of classic plots. 

It being the legitimate object of dramatic representation 
to sound the depths of feeling and penetrate the hidden 
nrysteries of the spiritual life, the ancients have, for obvious 
reasons, bequeathed to us no fitting models for imitation, 
whatever may be the wonderful perfection to which they 
attained in their own style. As a general rule, it cannot be 
expected that any one standard of elevated tragedy should 
become valid and binding upon all nations. Even in the case 



CALDEEON AND SHAKSPEEE. 271 

of Christian nations, united by a common religion, the senti- 
ments of one people too widely differ from those of another 
to admit of dictation on a point of such vital importance as 
the guidance of inward perceptions and recognition by means 
of dramatic influences. In this department of art, each must 
adopt a standard most congenial to its moral habits and 
sentiments. 

I am, accordingly, far from wishing to recommend the 
Spanish drama or Calderon, its brightest ornament, as a 
model of unreserved and direct imitation on our own 
stage. Though the high excellence of Christian tragedy, 
which is mainly attributable to this divine poet, would seem 
all but unattainable in its glorious perfection to him who 
should boldly resolve on delivering the stage from its present 
degradation. The external form of the Spanish drama is not 
equally available for our purposes with the internal structure; 
in the latter a more lyric development prevails, and it is 
altogether more akin to our general tastes than the epic and 
historic terseness of Shakspere. The florid imagery of a 
southern fancy, so characteristic of the outward form and 
poetic garb of Spanish tragedy, may be no less pleasing than 
appropriate where nature exhibits a similar profusion, but 
it cannot be imitated. The remarks I took occasion to 
make, when speaking of a poetical representation of mystic 
subjects, are at least partially applicable to those of Calde- 
ron's which contain Christian allegory. Were I disposed to 
start any objections against the dramatic genius of Calderon 
as a poet, who is thoroughly Eomantic in the several species of 
dramatic composition, it would be the rapidity with which he 
hurries on his catastrophes. It cannot be doubted that these 
would be more strikingly effective if the plot were of more 
protracted development, if the enigma of life were oftener 
sketched with the profundity of Shakspere, and if he had 
not from the beginning given glimpses of the light which 
should be reserved for the close. Shakspere, again, is open 
to the opposite charge of too often placing before our eyes, 
in all its mystery and perplexity, the riddle of life, and leaving 
us, like a sceptic, without any hint of the solution. In 
those of his dramas which issue in a catastrophe, re- 
course is had to the old tragic solution which repre- 
sents the hero's utter ruin, or partial expiation of crime 



272 CALDEKON AtfD shakspebe. 

by suffering : rarely, if ever, the glorified purification depicted 
by Calderon in the glowing tints of love. In inward feeling, 
and in artistic treatment, the great English dramatist 
resembles the ancient poets rather than the Christian : in- 
clining more to the old Northern or Scandinavian school 
than to the Grecian. Profound sympathy with Nature 
is diffused throughout his works, constituting, as it were, 
their very soul: and it is this which animates his muse 
with a fascinating grace of rich transparent beauty. This 
peculiar element of Shakspere's poetr} T still remains as a 
characteristic of modern art, and will yet obtain a fuller 
development, when a higher poetry shall no longer repre- 
sent the superficial aspects of every day life, but the secret 
life of the soul, in man as well as in Nature. In this 
point of view, his profound insight into Nature's secret 
workings transports Shakspere beyond the limits of drama- 
tic verse : whilst in point of lucid arrangement he ranks 
next to Calderon, as a grand type and pattern commanding 
the admiration of all ages. 

The Spanish drama, with its artistic form, may in one point 
serve for our rule and guidance : I allude to comedy, which 
in that country is of a thoroughly romantic character, and, 
therefore, really poetical. On the stage all attempts to 
elevate prosaic reality to poetical regions, by means of 
psychological acumen, or mere fashionable witticism, must 
of necessity prove utter failures. All who have had an 
opportunity of contrasting the so-called intrigue-plots of other 
nations, and especially of Germany, with the romantic charms 
of Calderon's plays, will scarcely find words sufficiently ex- 
pressing their sense of the marked difference : poetic exu- 
berance on the one hand and poverty on the other. 

The poetry of southern and Catholic countries was inti- 
mately connected in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 
passing through similar stages of development. In such 
countries as had, on the contrary, embraced Protestantism, 
the new faith effected a sensible change : since, together 
with a rejection of the Catholic creed, many symbols, poetic 
traditions, legendary as well as mythic, were indiscriminately 
ignored and suffered to lapse into oblivion. But as England, 
of all Protestant countries, retained the largest traces of the 
old Church in her hierarchical institutions and in her social 



spe>*see's fairy qtjeen. 273 

economy, so sine was the first to inaugurate the revival of 
poeti-y, blooming in all the graces of nature and art, and 
assimilated, in a great degree, to the romantic style of 
southern Catholic climes. This is abundantly exemplified 
in Spenser, Shakspere, and Milton. It can hardly be neces- 
sary to insist her* on the predominance of the romantic 
element of olden chivalry, and of the colouring of southern 
fancy, in Shakspere ; Spenser, himself a chivalric poet, and 
also Milton, followed certain romantic models, more especially 
the Italian. The nearer our critical survey approaches to 
the literature of our own day, the more strictly it will be my 
duty to confine my observations to those poets and writers 
who mark the summit of national language and culture, and 
an examination of which are, on that account, most important 
and instructive for other nations and for the world. The 
three above-named poets, the greatest England ever produced, 
essentially include all that is worthy of note in the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries. 

Spenser's poem — the Eairy Queen — conveys to us a good 
idea of the romantic spirit as it was still manifest in England 
under Elizabeth, the virgin queen, whose vanity was flattered 
by allusions delicately veiled in mythological and poetic guise. 
Spenser is rich and picturesque ; his lyrics breathe an idyllic 
tenderness, and his muse is altogether redolent of the old 
Troubadours. Not his poetic treatment alone, his very lan- 
guage bears striking resemblance to the old German chivalric 
and love-song. The development of the English language 
is thus quite contrary, in point of chronological order, to the 
German. 

In the fourteenth century Chaucer's verse is not unlike 
our homely rhymesters of the sixteenth century in Germany ; 
whilst Spenser, at this latter period, is characterized by a 
tenderness and musical harmony for which the Minne-lieder 
were so distinguished. In a language of mixed derivation, 
like the English, there is a twofold ideal, according as the 
poet inclines to one or other of the components of his lan- 
guage. Of all English poets, Spenser is the most Germanic 
in diction, whilst Milton, on the other hand, has given the 
preponderance to the Latin element. The mould of Spenser's 
poem is, taken as a whole, infelicitous: the Allegory he has 
selected, lying at the very foundation on which his superstruc- 



274 SHAKSPEEE. 

ture is erected, is not a living one, such as breathes and moves 
throughout the older chivalric poesy, revealing lofty concep- 
tions of spiritual heroism and the secrets of exalted devotion 
by means of outward adventure and symbolical tales. It is 
that lifeless Allegory which is comprehended in a mere cata- 
logue of the virtues ; in short, one that we should never divine 
under its historical garb, if the author had not given an ex- 
planation in so many words. 

The admiration of Shakspere, who in his lyrics and idylls 
closely followed this type, is a circumstance calculated to 
enhance Spenser's merits in our estimation. It is this poetic 
feature that most effectually reveals the true poet in all his 
native feeling. Shakspere evidently regarded the stage of 
which he was so distinguished a master, only as a prosaic 
application of his art, a faithful sketch of life for the multi- 
tude, at the best a condescension of his powers. How little 
he who sounded all the depths of varied passion, who drew 
human nature as it is, and with his magic pencil fixed each 
expression of its changing lineaments, the noblest and the 
coarsest, was himself rude or savage, is testified by the 
extreme tenderness that breathes over those idyllic effusions. 
Small is the number of those who are touched by this mild 
softness, just because it is so exquisite and so deep ; but to a 
just comprehension of his dramas these lyrics are indispens- 
able. They shew us that, in his dramatic works, he seldom 
represents the reflection of himself, of what he felt and was, 
but the world as it stood clearly before him, though separa- 
ted by a wide interval from himself and his deep tenderness 
of soul. Accordingly, the images presented to our view are 
thoroughly faithful, devoid of flattery or embellishment. If 
intelligence and penetrating depth of observation, as far as 
they are necessary to the characterizing of life, were the first 
of poetic qualities, hardly any other poet could enter into 
competition w r ith him. Others have sought to transport us, 
for a moment, to an ideal condition of humanity : he presents 
us with a picture of man, in the depths of his fall and moral 
disorganization, with all his doings and sufferings, his 
thoughts and desires, with a painful minuteness. In this 
respect he may almost be called a satirist; and well might 
the complicated enigma of existence, and of man's degrada- 
tion, as set forth by him, produce a deeper and more lasting 



SHAKSPERE. 275 

impression than is made by a host of splenetic caricaturists, 
who are called satiric poets. But throughout his works 
there is a radiant reminiscence of man's pristine dignity aud 
elevation, from which immorality and meanness are an ab- 
normal apostasy : and on every occasion this reminiscence, 
united to the poet's own nobility of soul and tender feeling, 
beams forth in patriotic enthusiasm, sublime philanthropy, 
and glowing love. 

Yet even the youthful fervour of love in his Romeo is a 
mere inspiration of death ; Hamlet's sceptical views of life 
invest him with a strange mysteriousness ; whilst in Lear, pain 
and grief reach the climax of madness. Hence this poet, ex- 
ternally so calm, so collected, so serene, and throughout 
controlled by reason, who appears as if he did nothing without 
a settled purpose, is inwardly the most dolorous and tragic of 
all ancient or modern dramatists. 

I have said that he considered the drama as entirely a 
thing for the people, and, indeed, at first treated it in this 
light. He attached himself exclusively to popular comedy, as 
he found it already existing, and widened its arena in accor- 
dance with this principle and with subsequent necessities. 
Yet in his earlier and ruder efforts he introduced elements 
of gigantic grandeur and of horror into the popular drama : 
whilst he was likewise prodigal of representations of human 
degradation, passing formerry jests with the vulgar, but which 
were joined in his reflective and penetrating spirit with 
feelings of contempt or sorrowful sympathy. Popular tales 
and songs materially determined the external form of his 
productions : he was neither without learning, as has been 
too commonly though erroneously supposed, since Milton 
called him the free child of nature,* nor without art ; still 
it is obvious that the deeper accords of nature could alone 
avail to unlock the close reserve of his solitary soul. The 
sympathetic affinity by which he came into most direct con- 
tact with his fellow-creatures was his patriotism : he immor- 
talized the glorious achievements of his country in the French 
wars, which he gathered from the trusty old chroniclers, in 
a series of dramas which approach nearly to epic poems. 

• The reference is to the lines in Milton's L' Allegro — 

" Sweetest Shakespeare, fancy's child, 
Warble his native wood-notes wild." 



276 SHAKSPERE. 

In the works of Shakspere a whole world is unfolded. 
"Whosoever has comprehended this, and been penetrated with 
the spirit of his poetry will hardly allow the seeming want 
of form, or, rather, the form peculiar to his mighty genius, 
nor even the criticism of those who have misconceived the 
poet's meaning, to disturb his admiration ; as he progresses 
he will, rather, approve the form as both sufficient and excel- 
lent in itself, and in harmonious conformity with the spirit 
and essence of his art. Shakspere's poetry is, upon the whole, 
near akin to the German spirit : hence he is appreciated in 
Germany more than any other foreign poet, and regarded with 
almost native affection. In his own country, many erroneous 
estimates of Shakspere have arisen from the superficial resem- 
blance to him of some inferior poets. How interesting soever 
the poetry, his form and manner can in nowise be proposed 
as an exclusive model for our own stage ; the less so that his 
feelings and perceptions, while they are eminently poetical, 
are by no means the only poetical ones, or entirely satisfy the 
demands of dramatic requirement. Our German drama is 
founded on the same, or at least a similar, historical and epic 
foundation, with that of Shakspere : it would, perhaps, in its 
present state of collective as well as individual effort, be more 
correct to say that it seeks to do so. Proceeding, then, in this 
direction, were we to judge from the most important efforts 
that have been as yet put forth, it would seem as if our 
drama were approximating more and more to the confines of 
purely lyrical treatment, after the manner of classical tra- 
gedy, or of Calderon's more finished Christian conceptions of 
life and its phenomena. With reference to practical appli- 
cation, Calderon is our highest standard of romantic and lyric 
beauty ennobled by Christian fancy, and he is almost nearer 
to the religious tastes of our age than Shakspere : though 
it were ungrateful to ignore the services of the latter in 
having furnished us with a permanent basis for the enduring 
structure of German poetry. Calderon, essentially a roman- 
tic bard, as we have seen, attached himself to the older school 
of Christian allegory, and has transferred its symbolism to 
the drama : the disposition and genius of Shakspere, on the 
contrary, are in more intimate communion with the northern 
school, whilst modern German poetry continues, as has ever 
been its wont, to comlyjne a tendency to both. Shakspere's 
profound reflectiveness is an element which, though in close 



MILTON". 277 

contact with the sublimest heights of minstrelsy, belongs 
to epic verse rather than dramatic ; for when found in con- 
junction with the latter, it almost invariably bears the ap- 
pearance of being mutilated and desecrated. This devia- 
tion is the more to be guarded against as it is particularly 
seductive, and is likely to prove more disastrous in its con- 
sequences to the poet's imitators than copying his prosaic 
terseness or his historical circumstantiality of detail : nor is 
it calculated to enjoy any continuous amount of public favour. 
So also with Calderon's brilliant symbolism, scattered parts 
of which could not fail to be productive of injurious results, 
and on our own stage — hitherto the chaotic rendezvous of 
mingled sensations, opinions and views — would convey only 
a painful impression of profanation. His rich lyric beauty, 
however, will ever remain an exemplar for the imitative 
efforts of our dramatists. 

Spenser's delightful chivalry and Shakspere's free poetry 
of life were misunderstood, contemned, and even persecuted, 
when fanaticism, which had existed only as a hidden disorder 
during Elizabeth's reign, broke forth with virulence under 
the first Charles. The great Dramatist was an object of 
especial aversion to the Puritans, to whom he, in turn, seems 
not to have been very partial : a feeling that is perpetuated 
on the part of the Methodists and other sects at the present 
day, widely diffused all over England. "We are, however, 
indebted to those Puritan times for the production of a bard 
justly esteemed his country's boast and pride.* The poetry 
of the world and of nature being proscribed by the Puritans, 
the art which would correspond with the spirit of the age 
was obliged to be directed to the spiritual world, as is shown 
in Milton's uniform seriousness. His epic is, at the very 
outset, exposed to the difficulties which beset all Christian 
poems that celebrate the holy mysteries of religion. It is 
strange that he failed to discover the incompleteness of 
Paradise Lost as a unique whole, and that it could only 
appear, as it really is, the first act of a great Christian 
drama, of which the Creation, the Pall, and Redemption, are 
so many successive acts, closely linked together. He even- 
tually perceived the defect, it is true, and appended Paradise 

* And we are indebted to them for a poet of a different order — Samuel 
Butler — whose Hudibras is the most powerful piece of humour in the 
English language. 



278 MILTON. 

Regained: but the proportions of this latter to the first per- 
formance were not in keeping, and much too slight to admit 
of its constituting an efficient key-stone. When compared 
with Dante and Tasso, who were his models, Milton, as a 
Protestant, laboured under considerable disadvantages, since 
he was deprived of a vast storehouse of emblematical repre- 
sentation, tales, and traditions, which considerably enriched 
their verse. Accordingly, he sought to supply the deficiency 
by means of fables and allegories selected from the Koran 
and the Talmud, a remedy not at all in harmonious unison 
with the general complexion of a serious Christian poem. The 
merits of his epic do not, accordingly, consist in regularity 
of plan so much as in scattered passages of independent 
beauty, and in the perfection of his poetic diction. The 
universal admiration of Milton in the eighteenth century is 
based on his isolated descriptions of. paradisaic innocence 
and beauty, his awful picture of Hell, with the character of 
its inhabitants, whom he sketched, after the antique, as 
giants of the Abyss. It is questionable if any real benefit 
accrued to the language of English poetry from its increased 
leaning to the Latinism of Milton rather than to the Ger- 
manism of Spenser : but this tendency being a fact, Milton 
must be regarded as the greatest master of style, and in 
many respects the standard of dignified poetic expression. 
It is not, however, easy to propose any fixed normal standard 
for a language composed, as the English is, of mixed ingre- 
dients: suspended between two extremes, it cannot but be 
subject to occasional oscillation to and fro. Shakspefe 
alone exhibits the varied elements of copiousness, power, 
and brilliancy inherent in it. 

After the reign of Puritan tastes another species of bar- 
barism invaded the language and literature of England : a 
Erench ascendancy of the very worst description. IS 7 or did 
the mind shake off those Gallic fetters until the close of the 
seventeenth century, a period coeval with the restoration of 
genuine freedom. But so broadcast had been the seeds of 
foreign predominance that those great old poets of whom I 
have been treating did not fully recover their lost influence . 
till the commencement of the eighteenth century. 

During the later Burgundian period, under Erancis the 
Eirst, and in the sixteenth century, Erench literature was 
peculiarly rich in historical memoirs, in which, indeed, it has 



COMMINES AKD MOSTAIGXE. 279 

been at all times more or less fertile. These consist of a 
species of historical confessions, or life-portraits, which fami- 
liarize us wich the state of social usages, of morality, and the 
very genius of the age, by means of vivid individual de- 
scription and observation of the prevalent tone and features 
of society. At this time, moreover, the peculiar talent of 
commenting, in an easy philosophical manner, on the occur- 
rences of daily life began to be developed. The names of 
Commines* and Montaigne are imperishably identified with 
this species of literature. The language of that period is for 
the most part of a loquacious and careless character, not un- 
frequently intricate and confused in the structure of its sen- 
tences: yet with that loquacity and carelessness a certain 
naivete, a natural grace, is blended in the case of Montaigne 
and other distinguished writers, which is the more interest- 
ing and attractive from the contrast they suggest with the 
vigorous restrictions subsequently enforced. Marot and 
Rabelais, though neither of them is devoid of talent, clearly 
indicate the striking inferiority, as a whole, of French poe- 
try and wit in the sixteenth century : as compared with the 
superior culture of contiguous countries, and their own pro- 
gress in the sequel. It is necessary to examine attentively 
the rude and almost barbarous condition of French litera- 
ture at this time, if we would rightly appreciate the bene- 
ficial changes effected by the Academy which Richelieu 
established. But as in his political system, so here too, the 
check introduced by that statesman was an iron yoke on 
anarchy, in language and in literature. In reference to its 
more immediate objects, namely., the promotion of a culti- 
vated idiom, his plan was crowned with absolute success. 
Prose, generally, attained to such universality of finished 
polish towards the close of the seventeenth century, that not 
the leading authors alone, but the great body of writers, were 
remarkable for genuine purity of style. Neither did this 
originate in any ambitious motives of emulation ; letters, 
female memoirs, mercantile compositions, never intended for 
the press, and emanating from unprofessional pens, all bore 
the same impress of cultivated taste, of which but few traces 
survived the eighteenth century. Of the poets, Racine at- 
tained to a harmony of diction and melody surpassing, in my 

* The best English edition of these amusing Memoirs is in Bonn's 
Standard Library, 2 vols. Is, 



280 AGE OP LOUIS XIV. 

opinion, the high excellence of Milton in English, and of 
Virgil in Latin : harmony unequalled since in the French 
language. In behalf of the interests of poetry it is a matter 
of regret that a greater degree of freedom was not permitted 
to this artistic perfection : and that chivalric verse of the 
olden time, which had been the means of introducing so much 
beauty and charming grace both of invention and expres- 
sion, was so indiscriminately rejected and despised. The 
same process that was successfully adopted in Italy and other 
lands would hardly have failed here : I allude to the grafting 
of a more artistic and earnest expression on the chivalric 
stock. French literature would, in that event, have inhe- 
rited a larger share of the Romantic spirit and poetical free- 
dom which Voltaire sighed for with so much ardour, and 
which he was so intent on remedying, however late, though 
with only partial success. Yet after all, a similar oblivion 
and sweeping rejection of by-gone memories are all but in- 
separable from every great comprehensive change even in the 
domains of literature. It was a revolution in every sense of 
the word : on that account, from the very first, many in- 
ternal contradictions survived the shock, and a secret oppo- 
sition was organized for the purpose of resisting the iron 
rule of power. This opposition threw off every vestige of 
disguise, under the Regent and in Louis the Fifteenth's 
time ; when the forbidden fruit of British liberty in litera- 
ture and language was eagerly and openly coveted. The ir- 
regular and injudicious mode of satisfying these desires, on 
the introduction of foreign tastes and models, resulted in a 
lawless and turbulent confusion. The waves of discord con- 
tinued to increase in rage and violence, until at last a mighty 
and irresistible torrent of anarchy swept away the flood-gates 
of the social system, and will only with great difficulty be 
brought under the yoke of obedience. 

The latter half of the seventeenth century witnessed the 
truly classic period of French poetry. Ronsard, who wrote 
during the sixteenth century, was but the remote forerunner 
of the great poets of the age of Louis XIV. : whilst Vol- 
taire, who succeeded them in the eighteenth, is not 
always successful in his attempts at improvement. The 
essential defect under which French poetry seems parti- 
cularly to labour, is the absence of a completely classical and 
national epic antecedent to the full development of other 



EONSARD. 281 

species of composition. Eonsard,* the author of such an 
attempt, is destitute neither of fire nor dignity, but his style 
is full of bombast; a feature commonly characteristic of 
early efforts on the part of those who, emerging from com- 
parative barbarism, are ambitious of display. Of all poets who 
were desirous of forming their style after purely antique 
models, Eonsard is the most strongly impressed with this 
characteristic. The very choice of his subject — the Franciad 
— was ill-conceived. Had a French poet selected some his- 
torical subject from the early annals of his country for the 
groundwork of an epic, the fabulous derivation of the Franks 
from Trojan heroes, which enjoyed extensive circulation in 
the middle ages, might not have been considered out of place 
as an episode in a performance of such a nature. But it 
was palpable evidence of the want of judgment to extend so 
thread-bare a legend to epic proportions. The deeds and 
fortunes of St. Louis would, in many respects, appear the 
most suitable subject for an epic of early French history, 
since they were intimately connected with the Horn antic, 
and were likely to afford free scope for imagination side by- 
side with national dignity and religious truth. The unsuccess- 
ful part which that monarch took in the Crusades might have 
been productive of some difficulty in the way of treatment 
and general plan of arrangement. As in the case of the 
Maid of Orleans, selected by Chapelain,f the circumstance 
that the heroine who had saved France in her hour of immi- 
nent peril, and had been idolatrously revered by the nation 
at large, was ultimately betrayed into the hands of the foe 
and consigned to an ignominious end, created no small ob- 
stacle to poetic success. The fate of French gallantry was 
the literary fate of Eonsard. He fell from the heaven of 
poetic glory and renown to the dust, and passed into complete 
oblivion. Yet his name cannot be omitted, nor his services 



* Born 1525. He began life in the capacity of page to the Duke of 
Orleans, and was successively the favourite of four sovereigns, and of 
Mary Stuart. Besides his epic he was the author of many odes. 

f Born 1595. He was commissioned by Richelieu to organize the 
celebrated French Academy. His epic, " La Pucelle," consisting of 
eighteen dreary books, is entirely different from Voltaire's powerful but 
licentious production of the same name. 



282 TRENCH TRAGEDY. 

ignored, in any critical history of French poesy : for it is an 
undeniable fact that the lofty Corneille, Chapelain's warm 
friend and admirer, not unfrequently suggests reminiscences 
of Ronsard's older school of composition. 

French tragedy is in reality the most brilliant portion of 
her poetical literature, and that which has, at all times, justly 
attracted the greatest amount of foreign attention. It is so 
exactly adapted to the spirit of the national character and 
peculiar tone of feeling, that the high value at which it is 
rated is sufficiently justifiable, though it will be remembered, 
her early tragedy was seldom if ever founded on home sub- 
jects. It is true, the Greeks, Romans, Spaniards, and 
Turks, who appear upon her stage, are all more or less 
French in many qualities besides the language. Neither is 
the appropriation, by poetry, of exotic materials, in itself and 
abstractly, a circumstance calling for severe censure. Yet 
it cannot but be regarded as singular that French tragedy 
should almost invariably celebrate the heroes of a foreign 
land. This is entirely owing to the want of an epic poem 
combining the necessary conditions of artistic success with 
extensive popularity. Then, too, the great majority of ma- 
terials available for tragedy, drawn from early French his- 
tory would have been unseasonably introduced on a stage 
depending on court patronage, and scrupulously avoiding 
offensive allusions and contrasts. The defect, however, re- 
mained, to whatsoever cause it may have been owing: and 
an authoritative appeal to national feeling was kept up by 
no one kind of serious poetry. Yoltaire recognized its im- 
portance, and resorted to various expedients for remedying 
the evil, not excepting personal dramatic efforts in connexion 
with subjects drawn from the history of France, and also 
from romantic chivalry. In the former, his example operated 
with indifferent results, and without any notable degree of 
imitation in his own age : but his success in the sphere of 
romantic tragedy was beyond the success of most of his 
countrymen. 

Upon the whole, then, we have seen that French tragedy, 
whilst, as a general rule, it is based on subjects foreign to 
her national history, is nevertheless of a national turn as 
regards its prevalent tone and spirit. Though, for reasons 
previously stated, it is hardly fitted to constitute a model 
and standard for any other stage. 



FRENCH TRAGEDY, 283 

Many have been led to regard the form of French Tragedy 
as a copy of the Greek, from references pointedly alhided to 
by tragedians themselves in their prefatory remarks. On this 
head Racine appears to great advantage. He speaks of the 
artistic spirit of the Greeks with a trne and lively knowledge, 
which cannot be said of any other Erench poet ; and even 
now, when scientific research has thrown light on many 
points that were imperfectly understood in his day, we are 
impressed with the dignity and artistic appreciation of his 
nature. Corneille is perpetually at war with Aristotle and 
his commentators, who appear to be sadly in his way, until, 
weary of contention, the champion of poetic liberty makes 
terms with his uncompromising opponents. One cannot 
help regretting that his mighty genius should have suffered 
itself to be hampered with such confining and self-imposed 
fetters. Voltaire's prefaces are, for the most part, full of his 
reiterated boasts and lamentations : being couched in lauda- 
tory strains of the general excellence of every thing Erench, 
and of the Erench drama in particular, coupled with com- 
passion for the shortcomings of Corneille and Racine. 
Whilst the reader is informed, in not very equivocal phrase, 
of a certain writer whose performances have not a little contri- 
buted to supply the deficiencies of those great poets. 

It is scarcely necessary, at this time, to re-open the Aris- 
totelian question which has been so satisfactorily disposed of 
ever since Lessing's day. The form of tragedy in Erance 
was needlessly confined by the supposed law of the unities : 
a law based on error and misconception, especially as regards 
time and place, and opposed to the fundamental principles 
of poetry. Eor in this matter, physical possibility is by no 
means to be estimated by severe arithmetical process, but by 
poetical, rather than historical probability, with a calculation 
as to its effects on the imagination. Among the varied 
influences brought to bear upon that age, Boileau must ever 
rank theoretically as well as practically, as the most narrow- 
ing in point of limitation of original genius. His pernicious 
power over Erench poetry may be gathered from the fact, 
that he was very nearly treating Corneille as he had already 
treated Chapelain. His natural poetic feeling may be learnt 
from the mechanical manifestation enjoined in his precept, 
always to compose the last verse of a rhyming couplet first. 



284 FRENCH TEAGEDT. 

In the place of sound judgment and genuine art, he was in 
the habit of indulging in sneers that were sometimes of the 
coarsest : regardless of poetic defects, he was very particular 
about the swell of ill-sounding rhyme. I would almost con- 
cur with Racine who, when writing to his son respecting 
Boileau, his personal friend, described him as " a good honest 
man, but profoundly ignorant of poetry." 

Another of Boileau's* injunctions on which he laid great 
stress, was that derived from Horace, that a work should be as 
many years before it is published as a child lies months in the 
womb before it is born. Notwithstanding this enactment of 
the literary dictator, there is little doubt that Racine's 
Athalie and Corneille's Cid, in my opinion the two most 
consummate productions of the French dramatic muse, were 
the offspring of a fresh and vigorous enthusiasm, rather than 
of careful elaboration. Those two dramas are fair indications 
of the point at which "French tragedy stopped short of its 
antique model. 

In Aristotle's conception of the nature of tragedy, how- 
ever much it may have escaped the observation of his more 
recent commentators, there is a plain acknowledgment that 
the lyric portions and chorus are of essential importance: 
inasmuch as they support and cement the whole structure. 
Whence it follows that this feature must be borne in mind 
by those who propose to imitate this form of dramatic art. 
Corneille's Cid is thoroughly lyrical ; this gives him a magi- 
cal power, and enables him to withstand all the assaults of 
criticism and of envy. Whilst in his AtJialie, Racine has 
introduced the chorus, modified indeed to suit altered cir- 
cumstances, but on the whole with great poetic success. 
Had tragedy continued in the same course as was marked 
out by these great masters of the Trench drama, it would 
have approximated much more closely to the fire and eleva- 
tion of its prototype. Many of the fetters imposed on it 
by prosaic misconceptions would, of themselves, have fallen 
away, and the genius of the drama, once freed from these, 
would have attained a much higher development. 

* "With reference to Schlegel's opinion, it must be remembered that 
Boileau was a critic of no mean powers, though anti-romantic in his 
views. His imitation of Horace's Ars Poetica is, in itself, a proof of hia 
grasp of intellect. — Trand. note. 



hUU 



FEENCH TEAGEDY. 285 

But when it became the prevalent fashion to omit the 
lyric constituent of ancient tragedy in modern composi- 
tion, the disproportion of the remainder was strikingly 
incongruous ; more especially in those mythological in- 
stances where similar subjects had been treated, and where 
they constituted an entire drama. The lyric element being 
wanting, equilibrium was destroyed, and it was found neces- 
sary to adopt some of those means which had been resorted 
to by the ancients in the declining period of the classic 
drama. The plot was rendered intricate by a crowd of inter- 
polated intrigues, a practice totally at variance with the 
dignified bearing of tragedy ; or engrossing attention was 
directed to the rhetoric of the passions, which every tragical 
subject affords such means of introducing. And this, in fact, 
is the brilliant side of French tragedy, asserting its high and 
almost incomparable distinction, and emphatically harmoniz- 
ing with the character and genius of a nation which is at 
all times potently swayed by rhetoric, and inclines, even in 
private life, to the rhetoric of the passions. In a certain 
measure, too, this is an element indispensable to dramatic 
representation. Yet it ought not to prevail in so exclusive 
a manner as it does in French tragedy : it were, at any rate, 
contrary to the principles of sound reason and judgment to 
set up a standard such as this, suited only to the peculiar 
tastes of France, for the adoption of other nations who may 
have stronger poetic than rhetorical faculties. 

The predilection of the French people for the rhetorical 
constituent of tragedy is so strong as to attract their admi- 
tration and criticism to individual points rather than to the 
merits of a whole performance. Keeping this fact in view, 
we shall find that the plots which have the most poetic solu- 
tion, throughout the range of French tragedy, are precisely 
those resembling antiquity the most, and issuing in the direst 
catastrophe without any mitigation. Earely does the issue 
accord with the true aspirations of the Christian bard : death 
ending in victory, as in E-acine's Aihalie ; or sorrow brighten- 
ing into severe happiness, as in Voltaire's Alzire. This latter 
production, in my opinion, is the author's masterpiece, in 
which he appears a true poet, and worthy of his two distin- 
guished predecessors in the Tragic art. 



286 



LECTUEE XIII. 

Philosophy of the Seventeenth Century. — Bacon, 
Hugo G-rotius, Descartes, Bossuet, Pascal. — Change 
in mode oe Thought. — Spirit oe the Eighteenth 
Century — Sketch op Erench Atheism and Revolu- 
tionary Spirit. 

The seventeenth century was rich in distinguished writers, 
not only in elegant literature, poetry and eloquence, but like- 
wise in science and philosophy. The philosophic system of the 
eighteenth century, which was so widely diffused throughout 
the regions of literature, and attained to a paramount influ- 
ence over the destinies of nations and of collective humanity, 
originated in the conceptions of certain earnest thinkers 
daring the preceding age : though, it is true, there was in 
part a material divergence from the spirit and original inten- 
tions of the founders. If we would have a just expression 
of the intellectual and social changes wrought by Voltaire 
and Bousseau, not only in the aspect and condition of Erance, 
but also the whole of Europe ; in a word, if we would com- 
prehend aright the genius of the eighteenth century, it is 
fitting that we should briefly review the merits of Bacon, 
Descartes, Locke, and some other of the heroes belonging to 
a former period. 

The sixteenth century was the age of ferment and strife, 
and it was not until towards the close of it that the human 
mind began to recover from the violent shock it had sus- 
tained. "With the seventeenth century new paths of think- 
ing and investigation were opened, owing to the revival 
of classical learning, the extension given to the natural 
sciences and geography, and the general commotion and 
difference in religious belief, occasioned by Protestant- 
ism. The first name suggested by the mention of these 
several features is Bacon. This mighty genius ranks as the 
father of modern physics, inasmuch as he brought back the 
spirit of investigation from the barren verbal subtleties of the 
schools to nature and experience : he made and completed 



BACON. 287 

many important discoveries himself, and seems to nave had 
a dim and imperfect foresight of many others. Stimulated 
by his capacious and stirring intellect, experimental science 
extended her boundaries in every direction : intellectual cul- 
ture, nay, the social organization of modern Europe gener- 
ally, assumed a new shape and complexion. The ulterior 
consequences of this mighty change became objectionable, 
dangerous, and even terrible in their tendency, at the time 
when Bacon's followers and admirers in the eighteenth cen- 
tury attempted to wrest from mere experience and the senses, 
what he had never assumed them to possess ; namely, the 
law of life and conduct, and the essentials of faith and hope : 
while they rejected with cool contempt, as fanaticism, every 
exalted hope and soothing affection which could not be 
practically proved. All this was quite contrary, however, 
to the spirit and aim of the founder of this philosophy. In 
illustration, I would only refer here, to that well known sen- 
tence of his, deservedly remembered by all : — " A little Phi- 
losophy inclineth man's mind to Atheism ; but depth in Phi- 
losophy bringeth man's mind about to Religion."* 

Both in religion and in natural philosophy, this great 
thinker believed many things that would have been regarded 
as mere superstition by his partizans aud admirers in later 
times. Neither is it to be supposed that this was a mere 
conventional acquiescence in an established belief, or some 
prejudice not yet overcome of his education and age. His 
declarations on these very topics relating to a supernatural 
world, are most of all stamped with the characteristic impress 
of his clear and penetrating spirit. He was a man of feeling 
as well as of invention, and though the world of experience 
had appeared to him in quite a new light, the higher and 
divine region of the spiritual world, situated far above com- 
mon sensible experience, was not viewed by him either 
obscurely or remotely. How little he partook, I will not 
merely say of the crude materialism of some of his followers, 
but even of the more refined deification of nature, which 
during the eighteenth century was transplanted from France 
to Germany, like some rank offshoot of natural philosophy, 
is proved by his views of the substantial essence of a correct 

* Bacon's Essays, XVI. On Atheism, page 45 of the edition printed 
u liform with the present volume. 



288 BACON. 

physical system. The natural philosophy of the ancients 
was, according to a judgment pronounced by himself, open to 
the following censure, viz. : " that they held nature to consti- 
tute an image of the Divinity, whereas it is in conformity 
with Truth as well as Christianity to regard man as the sole 
image and likeness of his Creator, and to look upon nature 
as his handiwork." In the term Natural Philosophy of the 
ancients, Bacon evidently includes, as may be seen from the 
general results attributed to it, no mere individual theory or 
system, but altogether the best and most excellent fruits of 
their research within the boundaries not only of physical 
science, but also of mythology and natural religion. And 
when he claims for man exclusively the high privilege 
according to Christian doctrine, of being the likeness and 
image of God, he is not to be understood as deriving this dig- 
nity purely from the high position of constituting the most 
glorious and most complex of all natural productions: 
but in the literal sense of tbe Bible that this likeness 
and image is the gift of God's love and inspiration. The 
figurative expression that nature is not a mirror or image of 
the Godhead, but his handiwork — if comprehended in all its 
profundity, will be seen to convey a perfect explanation of 
the relations of the sensible and the super-sensible world of 
nature and of divinity. It preeminently declares the fact that 
nature has an independent self-existence, but was created by 
God for an especial purpose. In a word, Bacon's plain and 
easy discrimination between ancient philosophy and his own 
Christian ideas, is an intelligible and clear rule for fixing the 
right medium between profane nature-worship on the one 
hand, and gloomy hatred of nature on the other: to which 
latter one-sided reason is peculiarly prone; when intent 
only upon morality, it is perplexed in its apprehensions of 
nature, and has only imperfect and confused notions of 
divinity. But a right appreciation of the actual difference 
between nature and God, is the most important point both 
of thought and belief, of life and conduct. Bacon's views 
on this head are the more fittingly introduced here, because 
the philosophy of our own time is for the most part dis- 
tracted between the two extremes indicated above: the 
reprehensible nature-worship of some who do not distinguish 
between the Creator and his works, God and the world: or 
on the other, the hatred and blindness of those despisers of 



GE0T1US. 289 

nature, whose reason is exclusively directed to their personal 
destiny. The just medium between these opposite errors, 
that is to say, the only correct consideration of nature, is 
that involved in a sense of intimate connection with her, 
joined at the same time to a conscious conviction of our 
immeasurable superiority, morally, and to a proper awe of 
those of her elements that significantly point to matters of 
higher import than herself. All such vestiges, exciting 
either love or fear, as a silent law, or a prophetic declara- 
tion, reveal the hand that formed them and the purpose 
which they are designed to accomplish. 

Not less than the influence exerted by Bacon on philosophy 
and thought generally, was that of Hugo Grotius, during 
the seventeenth and a portion of the eighteenth century, on 
the practical and political world, and the ethics of interna- 
tional intercourse. Neither was this influence devoid of 
happy and salutary results : the religious tie hitherto main- 
taining the nations of the West in political unity being now 
severed, and Macchiavelli's impious and unjust system gra- 
dually becoming the prevalent standard of state policy, it 
was an act of the greatest humanity to found a system 
of jurisprudence for the common benefit of Europe, torn by 
civil war, disjointed in creed, inflamed with passion, and 
corrupted by false maxims of government. The doctrines of 
Grotius were extensively recognized as constituting a cor- 
rect standard. It is an elevating thought to find a scholar 
and a profound thinker, without any power other than 
that of intellect and honest will, becoming the actual 
founder of a new code of international law : as he gained the 
reverential esteem of his own age, so he justly inherits the 
grateful thanks of posterity. Regarded as a system, the 
international code introduced by Hugo Grotius and his suc- 
cessors may, indeed, appear very defective, and would hardly 
be proof against the varied attacks of the sceptic. The loss 
of that religious tie which formerly united all European 
states in one common bond of brotherhood, was, in reality, 
irreparable. In default of the same, justice was now based 
on the social tendency and destiny of man, essentially inhe- 
rent in his constitution. In proportion as the successors of 
Grotius based common law on nature and reason alone, refe- 
rence to the primary source of all justice was more and more 

u 






290 GROTIUS. 

frequently omitted ; the more inevitably did the theory and 
even practice, of international law lose itself in idle and inso- 
luble subtleties of speculation on the one hand, and degene- 
rate, on the other, into extravagant and erroneous conse- 
quences. To what monstrosities did not the law of nature 
and the system of reason eventually lead, both in opinion 
and practice, during the latter half of the* eighteenth cen- 
tury ! It was, nevertheless, a most beneficial circumstance 
that the doctrine of international law extended and recog- 
nized by means of Grrotius availed to stem the rapid tide 
of corruption for more than a century. For though it 
cannot be denied that from 1648-1740, there were instances 
of open and flagrant injustice in international transactions, 
yet they were generally protested against. If actual deeds 
could not be undone, it was still something to assert and 
vindicate the principles of rectitude. Violence and rapacity 
were, at any rate, bound by the forms of justice, and had 
to assume the semblance of rectitude. These beneficial 
influences continued to be manifest from 1740-1772 ; in 
a less degree, they extended their salutary operations to 
years subsequent to that period when Europe, a second time, 
suffered great and universal violation of her rights, and when 
former rules of guidance no longer prevailed, owing to an 
entire change in the circumstances and political fabric of 
states. Europe has, of late, been fully alive to this change, 
during fifteen years of unparalleled oppression, when the 
principles of bygone times were remorselessly trodden under 
foot and shivered into fragments before the sword of the 
conqueror. But after that monstrous tyranny had been 
overtaken by its doom, and passed away like a meteor ; and 
by the divine Providence, all things had been brought to a 
favourable issue ; those who are at the helm of national 
affairs clearly perceive that the mutual relations of Christian 
states and people, can no longer rest on the shallow founda- 
tion of universal natural right, or the mere force of reason, 
in accordance with usages now obsolete ; and they are aware 
of the necessity of conforming to the loftier requirements of 
Christian justice and love, and the common destiny of man- 
kind. 

Of all writings that have exercised a great and universal 
influence over the practical world and the political relations 
of Europe, those of Grrotius were, unquestionably, of the 



DESCARTES. 291 

most salutary kind, and can be compared in importance only 
with the preceding system of Macehiavelli,or the later theories 
of Rousseau. 

Besides his exertions in behalf of the restoration and re- 
cognition of the theory and practice of equity, Hugo Grotius 
manifested his good will in an attempt to reduce reli- 
gious truths to formal and, as it were, juridical proof. It 
was one of the indirect effects of Protestantism, that religion 
was the constant theme of contention, and, accordingly, was 
more and more treated as a matter of the understanding — a 
feature not a little characteristic of Calvin's genius, who 
founded the second great Protestant sect. In the effort 
alluded to, which was a growing want, Grotius found many 
followers, his designs being, indisputably, most worthy. 
Viewed in itself, it would appear as if religious impres- 
sions had grown faint and feeble, when that which is essen- 
tially a thing of inward feeling and living faith begins to be 
considered and defended with critical acumen ; till, eventually, 
religious truth is treated like a legal process, or is attempted 
to be solved like a geometrical problem as by Pascal. 

The philosophic exertions of Descartes, far from being 
equally meritorious with those of Bacon and Grotius, may 
rather be said to have had a noxious and seductive influence 
on his own and the succeeding age. His example is an 
instance of the possibility of being a great mathematician, 
according as that science has been hitherto pursued (which 
he certainly was for his age), without necessarily being a 
successful philosopher. The hypothesis of vortices, by which 
Descartes tried to explain not only separate facts in 
physics, but likewise the origin of the universe, has indeed 
long since been forgotten. His system, on the whole, 
enjoyed only a fleeting existence, and never spread far 
beyond Prance : yet his philosophy, such as it was, influen- 
ced the spirit of the seventeenth and even the eighteenth 
century in no small degree. His method, more especially, 
as he himself termed it, or the manner in which he took the 
initiatory philosophic steps, found many followers. He 
desired to be an original thinker, in the strictest and most 
complete sense of the word. To this end, he resolved 
entirely to forget all that he had hitherto learnt, believed, 



292 DESCARTES. 

and thought, and to begin entirely anew. Of course, this 
original thinker did not spare any of the philosophers or 
inquirers who had preceded him, and passed over their 
labours as unworthy of regard. But if it were possible, by a 
single arbitrary effort, to break the thread of hereditary 
thought to which we are inseparably connected through 
language, the consequences would be only destructive. It 
is as if in the political world it were attempted suddenly to 
stop the wheel of public life for the purpose of substituting 
a more perfect constitution, based on pure reason, in place of 
that evolved by the nation itself in the progress and struggle 
of ages. That Truth cannot be attained, any more than a 
fitting constitution, by means of an abrupt oblivion and re- 
jection of the past, is shewn in the annals of philosophy, 
which extend more than two thousand years back, and 
abundantly expose the fruits of such self-sufficient thinkers. 
The most natural consequences of a process like this would 
be neither to see nor avoid the most ordinary errors 
into which human reason is led, when endeavouring to ex- 
plore the truth by its own unassisted means. These errors 
are, accordingly, reiterated, and sometimes held up as dis- 
coveries, though they have been repeatedly corrected or 
refuted. As regards total oblivion of all that has been 
done, or attempted to be done, by preceding generations, 
it is so impracticable to keep this resolution of independent 
individuality of thought, that Descartes is by no means the 
first of those contemptuous thinkers whose most original 
opinions and alleged discoveries are, after all, taken from 
their predecessors, and only changed in words and form. The 
borrowing often indeed proceeds from an imperfect recol- 
lection and self-deception, without a distinct consciousness of 
the fact. Descartes has been greatly commended for his strict 
discrimination between spirit and matter. It cannot but 
appear very strange that it should be regarded as new and 
original to maintain a distinction between intellect and body. 
But the unsatisfactory manner of mathematical demonstra- 
tion which that philosopher adopted, in order to settle the 
distinction in question, was productive of no real benefit, 
since it only involved the connection of soul and body, and 
their reciprocal action, in inextricable difficulties. Since his 
day, it has remained a characteristic of philosophy to oscillate 



DESCAETES. 293 

unceasingly between the JEgo and the external world of sense : 
at one time, the former was supposed to originate everything ; 
at another, the latter was alleged to contain all experimental 
philosophy, including the moral and Divine, which was simply 
impossible. At all events, the connection subsisting between 
the Eqo and the outer world has continued to be an incom- 
prehensible problem, and simply because the higher Divine 
region, the ground on which both rest, and whose light il- 
lumines and explains both, has been altogether lost sight of. 
The medium of the soul was wanting to lead the spirit to a re- 
cognition of the Truth, and of the external world as the 
Creator's handiwork. The philosophy of that period was too 
much hampered with the abstractions of dialectic thought, in 
the limits of which the truth can never be found, and where, if 
found, transplanted from some other quarter, she can never be 
long retained in her integrity. The higher light of spiritual 
knowledge, although inseparable from religion, had never 
been completely disclosed in science : only some isolated 
broken rays had escaped, as it were, from the bondage in 
which all living knowledge had been kept during the ascen- 
dency of rationalism. It was accounted an additional merit 
of Descartes to prove the existence of Grod from pure reason 
alone, after the manner of a mathematical proposition. If 
this may really be termed meritorious, it belongs not to 
Descartes ; being altogether derived from those mediaeval 
philosophers whom Descartes, and his contemporaries, took 
every opportunity of depreciating. Undoubtedly the tone 
and spirit of their meaning were totally different ; for they 
adduced reason by way of supplementary, and as it were, su- 
perfluous proof, in confirmation of that truth, the most glo- 
rious of all, of which a firm conviction may be gained in a very 
different way, and which constitutes the essentia] spirit and 
centre of all other convictions and thoughts, of all activity and 
plans of life. As every created thing or organized being, in one 
way or another, proclaims the unfathomable greatness of the 
Creator, so human reason, generally so vain of her own power 
and skill, may join in the universal chorus to the praise of Grod. 
Or as in human affairs it is considered the most perfect 
triumph of a good and righteous cause, when even the oppo- 
nent can be brought, however reluctantly, to conless its justice 



294 MALEBRAKCHE AND HIJET. 

and truth, so man's reason may be admitted to bear testi- 
mony in favour of Divine truth. But if the existence of the 
Deity, which we first learn to know by internal perception, 
be exclusively proved from argumentative reasoning, as 
by Descartes, the Deity is, in a certain measure, made 
dependent on reason, if not actually synonymous and 
identical with it ; whilst the essence of eternal love is 
thus dragged down to the regions of abstract conception, 
and the appearance of the Absolute. It has never succeeded, 
and never will succeed, to seek to demonstrate the existence 
of God, in the absence of the inner perception and conviction 
of His being, to natures that are incapable of feeling and 
believing it. 

The followers and associates of Descartes formed a school 
of their own in France, whose tenets held sway for some time. 
Yet here and there, a few minds who asserted their inde- 
pendence, remained staunch in their allegiance to reli- 
gious truth, and adopted only so much of the system as 
was consistent with their faith. This may be affirmed of 
Malebranche, who could not, however, entirely extricate 
himself from the difficulties regarding the mutual relations 
of thought and external objects, the connection between 
spirit and matter. In antagonism to Descartes, and as a 
critical, acute, and philosophical defender of revelation, 
Huet became famous : whilst during the same period, Fene- 
lon, notwithstanding the prevalence of that philosophy 
and metaphysical contention, expressed the suggestions of 
his amiable nature in the most exquisite language. But 
greater than all these was the influence of one whose name 
1 have purposely deferred mentioning till now, in securing 
the independence of religious thought. I allude to Bossuet, 
the first of French authors, in point of eloquence and lan- 
guage. It might perhaps be doubted whether the splendour 
of such eloquence is altogether appropriate to religious truth, 
and whether the simplicity of Christian doctrine may not be 
more fittingly conveyed by means of an artless and simply 
cordial exposition. However this may be, it is certain that 
an orator, endowed as he was, with a comprehensive grasp of 
intellect and with brilliancy of expression, was of essential 
benefit to his age, and could not but be so at any period 
of religious controversy before the truth had completely 



BOSSUET. 295 

triumphed. It should be remembered, too, that Bossuet's 
eloquence was by no means restricted to purely theological 
topics. Whatever in life and morals, in Church and State, 
in politics and history, and generally in human affairs, 
invited and demanded serious reflection, was always regarded 
by this eminent man in a religious point of view, and as 
coming within his province. 

If it be allowable to institute a comparison between orators 
and poets, in regard to representation and language, I should 
be disposed to attribute to certain characteristics of Bossuet 
an excellence which ranks him even higher than the greatest 
of those Trench poets who were his contemporaries. Finished 
perfection of art and style is included within a fixed sphere. 
Situated between the lofty and sublime and that which 
is altogether artificial in form, deviations in both direc- 
tions are both easy and numerous. Poets and writers exist in 
abundance, who are grand and sublime without being at the- 
same time polished and uniformly harmonious. Whilst others 
unite over-solicitousness and effeminacy to a high degree of 
finish and uniformity, they are without the strength of subli- 
mity,— noble and tender but not grand. Voltaire was well 
aware of this, w T hen he laid bare the faults of his two predeces- 
sors in French tragedy, whom it was his chief ambition to sur- 
pass. He has no difficulty in discovering passages in Corueille 
open to this charge of obsolete rudeness of diction and bom- 
bastic exaggeration. It seems to me that he had a higher re- 
verence for Corneille's kindred genius than of Racine whom 
he held to be deficient in sublimity and pathos, in which he 
himself excelled. But his opinion of Racine was in the main 
unjust: for if we regard the mere rhetoric of the passions, 
there is scarcely one in the whole range of French tragedies 
that can compete with Racine's Phcsdra. His Athalie, 
again, breathes a different but still loftier spirit of enthusiasm. 
If other productions of the same author are more especially 
characterized by harmonious repose and delicacy, for instance 
his Berenice, it will be seen that this is in keeping with the 
nature of the subject. This much, however, must be granted 
to "Voltaire, that Bacine would have been a still grander and 
more perfect poet than he is, had he united a little of Cor- 
neille's impetuous sublimity, the effect of which is somewhat 



296 BOSSUET. 

marred by the prodigality with which it is lavished, to his 
own harmony of language and versification, as well as charac- 
teristic tenderness. As far as orators can be classed with 
poets, this combination of excellencies is found in Bossuet. 
Severely pure and polished, as also noble in expression, he is 
ever grand and sublime, where the subject admits of it, with- 
out once descending to bombast. I, therefore, cheerfully 
assent to the high praises bestowed by French critics on the 
distinguished excellence of one who is both a model of per- 
fect style and expression, and a rich source and storehouse of 
the most salutary and exalted truths. 

There is yet another mode in which Bossuet's superiority, 
as a writer and orator, to the distinguished poets of his 
nation and age, is manifest. French literature is in many 
essential points an imitation of the earlier cultivated nations 
of antiquity, and is, moreover, based on this imitation, much 
in the same manner as the literature of Rome is on that of 
Greece. This circumstance is, in itself, no reproach, being 
in a certain measure inevitable in the case of all nations 
attaining to a late degree of culture, and more particularly 
common to countries whose genius, like that of Rome and 
France, has a practical tendency rather than the development 
of internal mental activity. It were a gross mistake to place 
Roman literature on a level with the Greek inventive 
spirit ; but I have endeavoured to shew how the Romans 
made up for their great inferiority in poetry and pure philo- 
sophy by that thoroughly Roman sentiment, the all-pervading 
Idea of Rome, which gave so dignified and peculiar a tone to 
the whole of their literature. An Idea so lofty and controlling 
is a sufficient counterpoise, producing firmness and dignity 
of character. It was a similarly animating conviction that 
elevated the mind of Bossuet : the Idea of the Catholic 
Church and her connexion with history, politics, and science. 
No mere faith of custom, but the vivifying spirit of life, con- 
stituting, as it were, his second nature, and a view of the 
world which shed light on all other subjects. For this reason 
he is so unique in manner, and so independent of his prede- 
cessors, who, nevertheless, were his types as to style and 
oratory, his instructors in history. "What the patriotic Idea 
of Rome's greatness did for the Romans, Bossuet's spirit 



PASCAL. 297 

might have effected for Catholic France in a superior degree, 
had it only been more generally diffused. But so far was 
this Christian Idea from being general, that the most excel- 
lent and at the same time religious poet France ever produced 
was stopped midway in his career of exalted development by 
the jarring discord of internal conviction, and the rules of that 
dramatic art which he had modelled after the antique. It is 
a well-known fact that Eacine, who was attached to the 
opinions of the Jansenists, indulged in erroneous notions of 
artistic propriety, and for a long time declined writing for 
the theatre, which he deemed an absolutely objectionable 
institution. The poet's excessive scrupulosity is sufficiently 
amiable in the man ; and, indeed, his private life, as also 
his letters furnish abundant proofs of the deep religious sen- 
timent which animated his whole being. Though his uncon- 
ditional rejection of the theatre may not be approved by our 
own judgment, yet there was, doubtless, much in the tragic 
art of that day ill fitted to coincide with Christian ideas 
of morality. Be this as it may, the want of harmony 
remains, and Eacine would have done well to endeavour 
to reconcile his faith and his art, as he seems to have com- 
menced doing in his Athalie. How striking is the pre- 
eminence of Spain over France in this respect ! With the 
former, a thoroughly Catholic people, religion, poetry, and 
truth, instead of being discordant, met in beautiful har- 
mony. 

The sect of the Jansenists contributed several writers of 
distinguished merit, of these I will now only name Pascal : 
on the whole, however, these disputes exercised an injurious 
influence over the literature of France. A few words will 
suffice to recall the subject of those disputes. The combat 
was as old as human reason itself, and not to be solved within 
its strict limits ; for it concerned the liberty of man in juxta- 
position with natural necessity, or with the omnipotence and 
omniscience of Grod. Being purely a question belonging to 
reason, it ought never to have been transferred to religion. 
Hence its representatives and defenders have never taken any 
other than a negative interest in it, the avoidance merely of 
two equally objectionable extremes. The doctrine of free- 
will and human merit promulgated in the fifth and sixth 
centuries, according to which man was rendered independent 



298 pascal's provincial lettees. 

of God and of the saving influence of grace, was uncompro- 
misingly attacked by the oluimpions of the Truth, and suc- 
cessively refuted and rejected. Such was the fate, too, of 
the opposite heresy in the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies : that of denying all possibility of man's co-operating 
for his own benefit and salvation. The very existence of 
independent action was steadily denied him, whilst he was 
subjected to unlimited predestination, after the fashion of 
Pagan inexorable necessity, or Mahometan belief in a pre- 
determining fate. The manner in which the dispute was 
conducted considerably aggravated its otherwise evil tenden- 
cies. Pascal's " Provincial Letters " have come to be regarded 
as a classic portion of French literature, from their copious 
wit as well as the beauty of their language ; but if they are 
to be judged by the spirit of their general contents, they can 
only be termed a master-piece of sophistry. AH the resources 
of that ingenious art were laid under contribution in order 
to render his opponents, the Jesuits, contemptible and odious. 
No one conversant with the history and opinions of the 
period during which the strife raged, will doubt that truth 
was often and signally violated. But even if this celebrated 
writer, who was Voltaire's forerunner in wit, genius, and 
language, had done less violence to truth in individual in- 
stances, how pernicious must the effect of such contentious 
wrangling and bitter derision nevertheless have been when 
practised on the subject of religion ! In this instance, the 
contest was confined to the Jesuits who were personally offen- 
sive to Pascal, a man who yet was deeply earnest in religion, 
and who even wished to demonstrate it mathematically. But 
what guarantee was there that these same weapons might not 
speedily be directed at religion itself? This happened, too, 
ere long ; the system of sophistry, dexterously barbed with 
cunning wit and polished sarcasm, proved a dangerous tool, 
a keen-edged sword in the hand of Voltaire, who found a 
vast magazine ready to his hand in Bayle, who had previously 
exhausted all his skill in directing doubts, objections, jeers, 
and allusions at all points, like a running fire, against the yet 
unshaken tower of Paith. 

Philosophy, on the whole, gradually deteriorated during the 
latter half of the seventeenth century. The example of 
Hobbes testifies to the facility of transition from Bacon's 



HOEBES, LOCKE. 299 

new method of philosophising — without reflecting any blame 
on that great man — to the most decided infidelity and mate- 
rialism. The age was, however, not sufficiently ripe for the 
reception of that theory respecting the unconditional right 
of the stronger, to which the philosopher of Malmesbury was 
unreservedly committed. In a century, or a century and a 
half later, his atheistical views of the political as of the phy- 
sical world would have been more readily received. Accord- 
ingly, Locke met with general acceptance, just because his 
system was not so inconsistent with the recognized moral 
principles and feelings of his time ; and the exposition of his 
views, though prolix, was yet easy of comprehension — or, at 
least, seemed so. Essentially it was the same : nay, even 
more pernicious in its results, inasmuch as error gained in- 
creased extension by being put forth in a more moderate 
shape. It is sufficiently obvious that no kind of faith or 
exalted hope can long endure, if the whole of truth is to be 
circumscribed within the narrow circle of sense and sensuous 
experience Locke's personal belief in the Deity was com- 
patible with his general mode of thought ; for it frequently 
happens that he who is the first to open up a new path of 
inquiry does not perceive the consequences immediately re- 
sulting, or if he perceives, does not admit them. This 
system, if strictly carried out, dispenses with deeper thought, 
restricting itself to pure sensation and sensuous experience. 
Thus many have lived on the credit of Locke's name and re- 
putation who have assumed the pretensions of unprejudiced 
self- thinkers. But when the subject of this sort of sensu- 
ous experience, the powers it arrogates, and the effects it 
produces are maturely investigated, doubts and strange 
conceptions meet the inquirer at every turn : such was 
especially the case in England. The question relative 
to what passes in the back-ground of this lively picture of 
the world of sense cannot be evaded, however strong the 
determination to ignore it. The doctrine that begins by 
modestly asserting that there is no other medium of know- 
ledge than sense and experience, is in reality a veiled though 
not expressed Materialism, as was proved in Erance, where 
the mask was soon thrown aside. 

Indirectly, though quite unintentionally, Newton contri- 
buted to the formation of the philosophy of the eighteenth 



300 ITEWTON. 

century ; since those who adhered to the new system ap- 
pealed to his high authority ; and after his great discoveries 
it seemed possible to explain all things by means of physics 
without the aid of religion. Both Newton and Bacon would 
have turned away in disgust from those who idolized them 
in the eighteenth century. In the case of the former, his 
strong attachment to Christianity and to the Bible was often 
pitied and deplored by his philosophic successors as the pecu- 
liar weakness of a mind naturally strong. In many of his ex- 
pressions respecting the relations of the Deity to nature, or 
the starry heavens as the laboratory and reflex of the Divine 
glory, there is not merely a substratum of enthusiasm, but 
also of earnest conviction, bearing a peculiar impress, and 
proving that he had often deliberated on the supreme object 
of all contemplation, even though he was not actually a philo- 
sopher, and knew nothing of metaphysics. In the eighteenth 
century England was the foremost of European nations in 
literary glory. The whole of modern Erench philosophy 
emanated from that of Bacon, Locke, and other Englishmen : 
their system, however, when transplanted to Erance, soon 
assumed a new shape, distinct from that of its birth-place. 
Whilst German literature received a fresh impulse and a 
new direction, towards the middle of the century, under the 
influence of English poetry and criticism. 

Voltaire was, more especially, the means of introducing 
the philosophy of Locke and Newton into Erance. It was 
strange that he so seldom employed the wonderful grandeur 
of nature, as it was more and more displayed by the aid of 
science, in glorifying the Creator, but almost always made it 
subservient to man's humiliation and insignificance, as con- 
trasted with the immcasureable extent of the starry heavens. 
As if the mind, which contemplated all these stars and suns 
were not greatly superior to them : as if God resembled an 
earthly potentate who, of the millions subject to his sceptre, 
may easily be supposed to lose sight of the inhabitants of 
some obscure village situated on the frontiers of his domi- 
nions. Upon the whole, the eighteenth century generally 
employed increased natural science, which it had received as 
a glorious heritage from the preceding age,in a manner hostile 
to religious truth. Voltaire was destitute of a really syste- 
matic unbelief, involving fixed principles, definite philo- 



huiAi 



YOLTAIEE. 301 

sophical opinions, or even a distinct form of philosophic 
doubt. Just as the Sophists of antiquity manifested their 
dexterity and skill in defending two diametrically opposite 
views with all their eloquence, so Yoltaire attacked Pro- 
vidence in one treatise, and lent his support to it in another. 
But he is so far honest as to render it plain enough which of 
these works was his own favourite. In numerous instances 
he seems to have indulged without reserve his aversion to 
Christianity : and, indeed, to religion generally. In this re- 
spect his genius operated like a destructive weapon to the 
dissolution of all earnest, moral and religious thought. Yet 
I cannot help thinking that Yoltaire did infinitely more mis- 
chief by his pernicious views of history than by all his scof- 
fing at religion. As in poetry, so here he was sensibly aware 
of the defects under which his country's literature laboured. 
Since the time of Cardinal Retz, the abundance of historical 
memoirs, which were both attractive in style and of an 
instructive nature, had been greatly on the increase : so much 
so, that they constituted almost a literature by themselves, 
extremely entertaining and peculiarly French. Yet by this 
means history could not well escape falling into a merely 
conversational tone, and becoming a fragmentary collec- 
tion of isolated anecdotes, to the serious detriment of 
sober historic truth. Even if these faults were avoided, 
and the general execution ever so clever, it was after 
all but a subordinate species, a preparatory grouping of 
materials, anything but history in its true acceptation. 
There is, at any rate, an immense distance between the most 
genial performances of this kind, and historical composition 
as it was understood by the Ancients, and by Macchiavelli 
among the moderns. Thus it happened that whilst French 
literature was stocked with the productions of lively nar- 
rators, couched in respectable and easy diction, it was alto- 
gether without a really classic national history, the work of 
some great original genius. Of this want, then, Yoltaire was 
fully cognizant, and in accordance with the comprehensive 
grasp of his ambition, he sought to supply that want. France 
herself acknowledges the utter failure of his attempt ; and 
that neither in point of art nor of representation and style, 
suited to the range of history, can he for a moment be com- 
pared, I will not say with the best ancient masters, but with 



302 YOLTAIEE. 

the leading historians of England : for instance, Hume and 
Robertson. Yet the influence of his historic views on Eng- 
lish writers, especially on Gribbon, was very extensive, and 
they may be said to have become all but dominant in the 
eighteenth century. The characteristic feature of Voltaire's 
views was a deep-seated hatred of the clergy, of Christianity, 
and of religion generally, displayed on every occasion and 
in all possible forms. Politically, they were marked by 
strong partiality and prejudice for republican institutions, 
which were either of a nature quite repugnant to the circum- 
stances of modern Europe, or that betrayed gross ignorance 
of the essential elements of republicanism on the part of the 
writer. His followers went so far as to detest all kingly 
power and nobility ; in other words, they treated the old 
economy of states and of society with gross contempt ; 
although Montesquieu had historically proved the value of 
feudal institutions, and had traced their characteristics with 
great ability. The progress of- recent times in profo under 
historical criticism proves the frequent and serious misre- 
presentations that were thus made of historical truths, 
and of all the past. For when the philosophy of the 
eighteenth century had entirely annihilated itself : and 
religion — which had all along been the object of its attack— 
instead of being destroyed, had triumphantly emerged from 
the contest, the history of the past resumed its natural 
appearance. Tet not a few falsifications, errors, and preju- 
dices still remain to be remedied. In no other department 
of human knowledge was the philosophy of the last century 
able to establish its influence, or root itself so deeply and so 
extensively as in history, in which false motives are likely to be 
less apparent to the reader who does not examine for him- 
self, than when they openly court attention in the shape of 
philosophic doctrines and opinions. 

There are, moreover, certain personal considerations in 
Voltaire's case tending to narrow the scope of his historical 
views. He makes little secret of styling all ages antecedent 
to Louis XIV. ages of darkness, and of representing all 
nations, except his own, mere hordes of barbarians. The part 
which that highly lauded monarch had to enact in Voltaire's 
drama of life and history accordingly consisted in being the 
first to pronounce the fiat, Let there be Light ! over the 



MONTESQUIEU, BUFFOS". 303 

chaotic barbarism of preceding ages and nations. Tet the 
great writers in the time of Louis, including Locke and 
Newton, are only considered and extolled as the first streaks 
of dawning light. The noonday sun of splendid enlighten- 
ment and liberty of thought being unquestionably understood 
by Voltaire to have made its appearance at a period some- 
what nearer to his own day. But however much he was 
inclined to flatter the vanity of his countrymen, yet there 
were moments of spleen and discontent in which he did not 
scruple to vent his bitterness against them ; as, for instance, 
in his well-known saying that the French character was a 
compound of the tiger aud the monkey : this lampoon one 
might easily be tempted to apply to himself. So impossible 
did it seem for his caustic spirit to treat of any subject or 
circumstance whatever with reverence and enduring serious- 
ness ! By nurturing its vanity he gave a wrong direction 
to his country's energies ; nor did the evil effects of such 
misdirection begin to disappear until France entered into 
natural and just relations with other European nations, and 
her intellect came into active contact with theirs. 

Even Montesquieu contributed to the development of this 
philosophy of the last century, in so far as he did not furnish 
his readers with any fixed standard and centre of unity, in 
illustration of his many excellent and ingenious political 
remarks. Fixed principles were not, then, common in any 
sphere of human action or contemplation. Hence this writer, 
of such distinguished genius and varied attainments, only 
served to augment the general confusion of ideas ; since in 
the absence of a leading principle, the spirit of the age was 
tossed to and fro on the vast ocean of political acquirements 
and fancies, like a bark on the waves without compass or 
anchor. 

Inducements to elevated thought and feeling, even to 
religious impressions, are scattered broad-cast throughout 
nature with almost lavish profusion, so that we need scarcely 
be surprised that many French naturalists of note took no 
part in the prevailing irreligious views of the period, or if 
somewhat entangled in their meshes, ever and anon soared to 
loftier contemplations. Buffon appears to have been one of 
this number : some of his opinions are, indeed, irreconcile- 
ab]e with revealed religion, others will not stand the test of 



301 , EOUSSEAU. 

philosophic investigation, whilst he himself was not alto- 
gether free from the material fetters that then confined all 
physical inquiry. Yet, with regard to his intellect and 
natural religious sentiment, he may be classed, at least com- 
paratively, with the best thinkers of the eighteenth century ; 
of later names, I will here only allude to the honest zeal of 
Bonnet. 

The social economy of modern Europe, and especially of 
France, was in many respects so far alienated from nature 
Miat it was perhaps pardonable for a restless, curious, and 
inquiring spirit to pass to the opposite extreme. At the 
same time, Eousseau's example is an instance of the insuf- 
ficiency of the mere admiration and worship of nature, to serve 
as an unerring guide to conduct and life generally. In regard 
to animated enthusiasm and zeal, Rousseau far surpasses 
not only Voltaire but all other French philosophers of the 
eighteenth century, standing, as it were, alone in this 
respect. Nevertheless, the influence he exercised over his 
nation and age was perhaps even more noxious. When a 
vigorous mind passionately devotes its best energies to the 
inquiry after Truth, and being unable to find her on a wrong 
track seizes upon error instead of truth, then, indeed, error 
possesses fatal and terrible properties, and has power to 
seduce many a noble heart deficient in firmness of principle. 
Voltaire's wit materially assisted in shaking this firmness, as 
well as the old foundations of faith and morality ; thus he 
paved the way for Rousseau, whose fiery eloquence dragged 
down into the vortex those who would never have yielded to 
the mere sophistry of wit. Eousseau's picture of a rude state 
of nature, and his theory of a pure democracy founded on 
unassisted human reason, may well be supposed to have at 
first produced a greater degree of astonishment than of con- 
viction. As he had succeeded, however, in originating a new 
epoch and method of education, which was soon generally- 
adopted, and which consisted of an isolated natural development 
of the individual mind, withoutany positive faith whatever, and 
irrespective of the connection of individuals in social union, 
it cannot create surprise that in a succeeding generation the 
most extravagant of his political ideas, similarly based on 
nature, were thought feasible. Much in the same manner 
as the extension of physics had for the most part led to a 



VOLTAIRE. 305 

corrupted morality, to attacks on faith, or even distinct denial 
of G-od, so also increased knowledge of mankind was turned 
to manifold perverse uses in the course of the eighteenth 
century. Rousseau was .enthusiastic in his admiration of 
savages, and in this had many followers. Yet, how much 
soever travellers' descriptions of American and other savages 
were embellished and rendered attractive for the purpose of 
furnishing the ideal of a truly inartificial state of nature, the 
custom of eating human flesh, prevalent among various races 
of cannibals, served in some degree to moderate the enthu- 
siasm of this school ; until the age, emancipated from all 
prejudices, advanced so far in its peculiar progress, that the 
above custom lost some of its repulsiveness among those new 
cannibals, the offspring of the Revolution, 

Voltaire, and several French writers after him, evince an 
equally strong predilection for the other extreme, far enough 
removed from the wild freedom of savages, — I mean the 
Chinese, whose monotonous social arrangements may be justly 
said to be "the Despotism of Reason." To an age which was 
increasingly desirous of substituting an efficient police for a re- 
ligion that had sunk into contempt, and for moral feeling ; an 
age which was ambitious of attaining to perfection in certain 
manufactures, as the highest destiny of human society, while 
it virtually declared the very acme of refinement to consist 
of so-called pure morals, solely and simply referring to the 
strict observance of police-regulations and to the diffusion of 
manufacturing industry : to such an age, was unspeakably 
pleasing a nation that assumed to have had pure morals with- 
out religion for thousands of years, and to have printed news- 
papers for centuries prior to Europeans ; a nation, moreover, 
that painted on porcelain in exquisite colours and prepared 
that important article paper, of a much thinner and finer 
texture than any produced in Europe. It were, indeed, de- 
plorable if modern Europe, after having learned from actual 
experiment that certain customs of the Caribbee Islanders 
are hardly practicable in the present state of society, were 
compelled to gather from experience also, that the Despotism 
of Reason, involved in Chinese uniformity of state and social 
policy, is by no means congenial to humanity or even just in 
itself. 



80G EOUssEATj a:nd helyetitts. 

Yoltaire and Rousseau were the first and principal guides 
to the philosophy of the eighteenth 'century : others mate- 
rially co-operated to advance the spirit of the times further in 
the path selected for its course, and to develop with more 
definite principles and bolder consequences the philosophy of 
sense suggested by Locke. How far their efforts were suc- 
cessful may be seen in the case of Helvetius, who, when he 
depicted selfishness, vanity, and sensual pleasures as the 
genuine all-determining springs and realities of life, and 
declared that they constituted the only reasonable aims of 
enlightened man, was merely reported to have disclosed the 
universal secret of the world. According to this doctrine, 
mind does not distinguish man from the lower animals — but 
his hands and fingers — a distinction which, of course, the 
ape, in some degree, shares with man. Some philosophers, 
indeed, went so far as to question the actual difference be- 
tween man and the ape ; and the possibility of gradual tran- 
sition in their formation was seriously discussed. It is to be 
regretted that Rousseau was induced, from personal motives, 
to abandon his original intention of openly attacking the 
tenets of Helvetius. Such a dispute would, from its very 
nature, have led him to a more precise development of his 
own principles of thought, which could not but have been of 
great advantage. For, with much that w T as pernicious, his 
philosophy contained the germs of much that was good and 
noble; and his writings, when correctly analysed, will be 
found to contain not a few remarks that his opponents and 
critics are wont rather to use than to acknowledge. He 
thoroughly disapproved of the sensuous philosophy then in 
vogue ; with his whole soul he detested that false science. 
Though he was never successful in attaining to the truth, yet 
he enunciated much that then seemed startling paradox, but 
which, from our religious point of view, sounds like an echo 
of the truth from amid the confusion of universal error. Pity 
that his loftier intellectual aspirations w r ere never really 
developed or turned into the right direction ! He stood alone 
in solitary contemplation : ever and anon, when on the track 
of glorious truth, some fanciful notion in the shape of 
nature-worship, misled his footsteps. His spirit, constantly 
agitated by opposing influences, enjoyed no internal repose. 
Of all who erred, and erred so deeply, during that eventful 



DIDEROT. 307 

period, he is the only one who inspires us with deep 
regret. 

Diderot marks the last step in the career of French philo- 
sophy prior to the Revolution. It may be assumed to be 
generally understood that he constituted the actual centre 
and essence, so to speak, not of the Encyclopedic only, but 
likewise of the Systeme de la Nature, and many other works 
written in a similar spirit, and virtually atheistic in character. 
He worked in secret rather than openly, and differed from 
Voltaire and Eousseau in being free from literary vanity, and 
mainly directing his energies to the success of his cause. His 
animating principle consisted in downright fanatical hatred 
not merely of Christianity but of every species of religion. 
The favourite views entertained by this school are that all 
religion is mere superstition and the result of fortuitous cir- 
cumstances ; taking its rise in the terror with which great 
physical changes, of which the traces are still visible, inspired 
the survivors of a half-destroyed race. Several treatises in 
the interests of this party do not scruple to use the term 
atheism, and undisguisedly maintain that the universal adop- 
tion of atheism is essential to the unalloyed happiness of the 
human family. But wherever this theory has been reduced 
to practice it has proved to be a fallacy. The most unnatural 
abortion of this atheistical system is the well-known mytho- 
logical interpretation of Christianity, according to which 
Christ is only an astronomical symbol, having no historical 
existence, the twelve Apostles corresponding with the signs 
of the Zodiac. A complete Pagan system having been deduced 
from physical science, history having been thoroughly cor- 
rupted in all its several periods, no further enormity remained 
to be perpetrated than to summon Pagan mythology and 
give it this anti- Christian application, in order that universal 
history might be wholly despoiled of its corner-stone, and 
that its centre-point might be converted into idle fable and 
ingenious allegory. The ideas generated by this system, 
together with their practical effects on life itself, are to be 
gathered from the well-known wish definitely expressed pre- 
vious to the revolutionary outbreak, namely— That the last 
king might be strangled with the bowels of the last priest ! 



308 



LECTtJEE XIV. 



Lighter Productions op the Prench, and imitation 
or the English.-Pashionable Literature in Prance 
and England.-Modern Eomanoe.— Peose of .ROUS- 
SEAU AND BUFFON.-LaMARTINE.-EnGLISH POPULAR 

Poetey.-Scott and Bthon.-Modern Theatre of 
the Italians.-English Celticism and History.— 
Scepticism and moeal beliee.-Eetcrn to a purer 
and loftier Philosophy in Prance.-Bonald and St 
Martin, Lamennais and De Maistre.— Sir William 
Jones and Burke. 

The lighter literature of Prance has been continuously and 
richly endowed with genial productions of imagination and 

t Ice the period of Louis XIV Still, even in these the 
palm of success must needs he awarded to earlier times. Iv one 
of the later scenic poets can vie with Moliere m comic .humor : 
Lafoutaine's own peculiar grace displayed m elaborate art- 
lessness of poetic narrative, still remains inimitable. Vol- 
aire whoseViloBophy altogether inclined to modem tastes 
which he was P one of the first to prompt and direct, is con- 
nected by his poetry and literature with ar c older period, and 
thus constitutes a transition-point and link of union His 
comic dramas are far inferior to his tragedies : but he sur- 
passed all his competitors in manifold variety of witty tugi 
Sve poetry. And^his was the peculiar fectotatai by 
minor poetry in Prance at this time: a tone of social wit 
graduaUybeLne dominant, whilst in .England lyric .verse 
las characterized by a depth of thought and ^°f ™£^ 
feeliog in description. In proportion as poetry >™f 
herself with social life and with the present hour she be- 
comes subject to local influence and the tyranny of fashion. 
Sly comedies, romances, and social poems, dating from 
the close of the seventeenth, or the commencement of the 
eighteenth century, of a genial character and highly popular 
in their day, are now thoroughly obsolete in respect to the 



LIGHTER FRENCH LITERATURE. 309 

manners and spirit which they pourtray. Were the poetic 
literature of a nation entirely restricted to the representation 
of modern subjects — for instance, dramatic portraiture of 
national habits, narrative drawn from social life, and witty 
occasional poetry — it would scarcely be either necessary or 
possible to draw up a critical history of its contents ; any 
more than the minute ephemera of a summer evening can 
be made the subject of anatomical examination. It would 
then serve no other purpose than that of filling up the 
leisure hours of social relaxation, and though feeling and 
passion were occasionally aroused, or a fine idea added here 
and there, in order to avoid tedious repetition, the chief aim 
would still be to amuse ; and this could be effected quite as 
well without the aid of poetry. 

I would not be understood to say that some of the lighter 
kinds of poetry are not equally impressed by the stamp of 
genius with the more serious efforts of nobler minstrels. Yet 
the beauty of the former is rarely so universal, frequently 
resting altogether on a delicacy of expression that can be more 
easily felt than described. The beauties of an epic poem or 
a tragedy may be felt even when transferred to a foreign 
idiom, and they suffer less by such a transmutation in pro- 
portion to their intrinsic excellence. I very much question 
whether any foreigner, however conversant with the idiom- 
atic peculiarities of the French language, can ever realize the 
unlimited admiration of Lafontaine entertained by his own 
countrymen. Any one may appreciate his naivete, his grace, 
his genius ; but a Frenchman alone feels and admires much 
more than all this — a certain charm inherent in his expres- 
sion which it is not possible for any foreigner to discover. 
Some of Moliere's happiest and most characteristic creations 
are now too antiquated for living representation on the stage, 
and can only be admired in perusal. However highly they 
are ranked and justly ranked, as individual creations of 
French poetry, they are not felicitous models for the imi- 
tation of posterity. The characters of Labriryere, if dra- 
matized, are not therefore poetry. If the rhetoric of the 
passions, when holding exclusive sway in tragedy, by no 
means satisfies the requirements of its loftier destiny, the 
psychological analysis of character and passion in comedy is a 
far less competent substitute for poetry and wit. This 



310 LIGHTER TRENCH LITERATURE. 

psychological tendency of the higher French drama in the 
eighteenth century has often been made a matter ot re- 
proach. It suggested an easy transition to those moral trea- 
tises usurping the form of comedy, invented by Diderot, to 
our lasting misfortune. 

The original Trench character was no doubt quite as. 
airy and jocund as it is commonly depicted: but this care- 
less merry humour is nowhere reflected in the literature of 
the eighteenth century, even in cases where it would have 
been most fittingly introduced. This is to be attributed to an 
ever-extending spirit of sectarianism, political no less than 
philosophical: the current of events sufficiently explains the 
manner in which the rhetoric of the passions gradually as- 
sumed complete ascendancy over the olden merry poetry of 
France, and thus the national character obviously underwent 
essential changes during the eighteenth century. The 
dominant sensuous philosophy may, indeed, be supposed to 
have corresponded with the free jocular verse of some few 
poets, but it also carried many beyond the bounds of poetry. 
Materialism is, essentially, unpropitious to poetry, and 
deadening to the fancy. Whosoever is once fully imbued 
with the doctrines of Helvetius will be thenceforth deaf to all 
the witchery of the muse. 

On the other hand, the impatience of restraint and the 
worship of nature, which Rousseau's followers more especially 
deduced from the new philosophy, were in manifest contra- 
diction to the regularity of older French verse cultivated 
during the seventeenth century. Hence arose a secret inner 
spirit of opposition, a continuous effort to be disenthralled; 
this state of things soon brought about an open rebellion of 
taste, foreshadowing the greater political outbreak. Hence 
the predilection for English poetry. Voltaire made frequent 
use of it in secret, whilst he was busily engaged in openly 
aspersing it. In all higher efforts of the muse, this 
English influence is especially apparent, even down to 
our own times. The various attempts made to confer 
more freedom on the movements of tragedy, and enrich 
its historical import, without at the same time utterly 
demolishing the fabric of its older structure, have to this 
day remained incomplete, without any definite result what- 
ever. The most recent performances in the more elevated 



MODERN EGMA^CE. 311 

regions of poetry, that are accounted classic productions, 
are descriptions of natural scenery, appertaining to a species 
pre-eminently English. Eomance, accordingly, grew to 
be a favourite mode of composition with those whose 
enthusiasm for nature found no vent in any of the older 
existing forms : for it was exempt from all those fetters 
that cramped aspiring effort in other departments of 
poetry. Y'hen Yoltaire clothed his wit and philosophy in 
this form, when Eousseau made it the depository of his 
enthusiasm and eloquence, or Diderot used it as the ve- 
hicle of his wayward petulance, Eomance became in the 
hands of these men of genius exactly what each of them 
wished. The two former writers were followed by a host of 
others, who sought to embody a similar spirit in more regular 
narrative selected from every-day life. I need not do more 
on this occasion than recall to recollection romances breath- 
ing the very spirit of Yoltaire, as manifested in his Candide, 
Others attached themselves more peculiarly to Eousseau : 
fired by at least equal enthusiastic love of nature, Bernardin 
de St. Pierre and Chateaubriand transported their imagina- 
tive facilities to the savage wilds of America, where they 
were sheltered from the rigour of those two inexorable 
tyrants of their native country, Aristotle and Boileau. 

Yoltaire, Eousseau, and Diderot made a frequent and 
arbitrary use of romance, as being a form eminently adapted 
to the conveyance of certain peculiar ideas of their own. 
But if this form be regarded as a distinct poetic species, 
as regular narrative in prose, sketching the transient 
features of society, it will be found that, in this respect, too, 
French writers have frequently copied from English models, 
but have seldom, if ever, equalled them. In point of origin- 
ality and power of representation Eichardson perhaps occu- 
pies the highest place in this peculiar style of composition. If 
he, likewise, has become antiquated, if his striving after the 
ideal was not attended with special success owing to exact- 
ness of details occasionally tedious, we have a proof of the 
incompatibility of direct poetic connexion witli the hard 
realities of life, though disguised in prosaic garb. If his 
genius availed not to solve the problem, it was because its 
solution was little short of impracticable. Of the imitators 
of Cervantes, Eielding and Smollett still remain the most 



312 FRENCH PROSE WRITERS. 

accomplished ; whilst among short and simple narratives, 
life-like miniatures of this species of art, the Vicar of Wake- 
field claims a foremost rank. Sterne founded another and 
a different species, in which description holds a secondary 
position, the principal being occupied in playful humour, 
sentiment, and wit. 

If the productions of mind, subservient to fashion and 
every-day necessities, may be judged by the same standard 
as the fashionable commodities, I should be tempted to give 
the preference, in point of neat and finished character, to 
English romances generally over those of France. 

Another feature in French literature unfavourable to the 
perfect development of romance is its extraordinary store of 
historic memoirs, autobiographies, attractive collections of 
anecdotes and letters, all of which approximate, more or less, 
to a romantic character. I am not aware that any of Mar- 
montel's tales ever created so general a sensation as his 
Memoirs ; and what French romance is there that could, by 
any possibility, compare in thrilling interest with Rousseau's 
Confessions ? 

French poetry, as a whole, was supplanted by prose in 
the course of the eighteenth century: notwithstanding in- 
dividual glaring imperfections, the latter attained to a height 
of polished eloquence under the hands of certain leading 
writers. Voltaire's prose style is spirited and witty like 
himself: thoroughly suited to his genius and design. His 
language is not, I believe, considered worthy of imitation by 
the more rigid critics of his country, and his historical method 
is certainly not. Diderot's style and manner are engaging 
in the eyes of some Germans, inasmuch as he is imbued 
with a degree of aesthetic feeling for the beauties of imitative 
art: a feature rarely, if at all, distinguishable in French 
authors generally. His language, however, is capricious and 
incorrect, nor is it embellished with that pure elegance that 
may reasonably be expected to characterise the best French 
writers. The style of Buffon and Rousseau is most admired 
as a specimen of masterly delineation and consummate 
rhetoric. The former is perhaps the more artistic in point 
of detail and in the structure of periods ; but these qua- 
lities are marred by a defect incidental to the nature of 
his work. I allude to his numerous episodes, in which he 



BUFFOS', ROUSSEAU*, AND LAMAETINE. 313 

takes occasion to introduce his thoughts or rhetorical pas- 
saoes where they were not called for. It may not seem 
unnatural in him to interweave his theory of love with his 
article on doves. But a dissertation on the migration of 
nations is somewhat out of place in a chapter on the hare. 
Aristotle permitted himself no such digressions in his 
capacity of natural historian; in strict appropriateness of 
detail coupled with lucid distinctness of scientific style, 
Bnilbn is far inferior to the Greek master whom it was 
his fond ambition to emulate. I accordingly concur with 
those who give Rousseau the preference, since his art is 
less isolated and disjointed than that of Buffon : and rhe- 
torical unity, though not very strictly regulated, is more 
apparent throughout his writings. Hence he is all the more 
captivating. But whilst I cordially agree with those who 
pronounce Rousseau to have been the first French author of 
the eighteenth century in point of artistic and powerful 
expression, I cannot dissent from those who see an immense 
interval between his captivating eloquence and the sublime 
grandeur of Bossuet. 

If the present relations of literature are ever to undergo 
a change — that is, if the preponderating influence of French 
prose is to decline, or, at least, be diminished by the revival 
of French poetry — my opinion is that such a revival cannot 
be effected by any imitation of English standards, as has 
heretofore been attempted, nor indeed by any external 
causes, but rather by a recurrence to the poetic spirit of the 
country in the olden time. Imitation of the genius of an- 
other nation can never conduce to the attainment of the 
object in view, for the several circumstances that have com- 
bined to elevate their art must of necessity be foreign to 
imitators. It is incumbent on every nation to recur to its 
own original and primitive legendary poetry. The nearer 
this source is arrived at, the more distinctly conspicuous are 
the poetic features common to all nations. The poetic 
legends of all races are as intimately connected with their 
origin as themselves. The pure spring of religious inspira- 
tion is to all minds an inexhaustible source, out of whose 
depths poetry gushes forth in living streams. From this 
source Lamartine drew his poetical compositions which form 
the beginning of a new poetical era for France. 



314 POPE AND YOUNG. 

English verse, at the commencement of the eighteenth 
century, still leaned on French taste, the influence of which 
is visible in Pope's elaborate versification, as well as in 
Addison's attempt in so-called regular tragedy. Meanwhile, 
both of them assisted in rescuing Shakspere and Milton 
from temporary oblivion. Pope's translation of Homer, 
though very remote from the simplicity of the old bard, still 
served to increase the general predilection for the great poet of 
nature and antiquity, and is itself a proof of this strong 
predilection. Pope's original poems manifest that predomi- 
nating tendency to poetic reflection which gradually rendered 
the didactic form of composition a favourite in England, and 
produced such a host of efforts in the same direction. It 
has been previously remarked that this species is in its 
nature cold and anti-poetical. English example affords no 
exception to the rule of its speedy exhaustion. Contempla- 
tion was frequently overshadowed by pathetic melancholy, 
as in the wild but beautiful effusions of Young's "Night 
Thoughts." With a more tempered beauty Thomson ex- 
pressed the ardour of his natural feeling in a poem peculiar 
to the English description of nature, a species that met with 
many imitators abroad, It was this love of nature that 
gained Ossian so many admirers : and though not always 
marked by Ossian's plaintive melancholy or Young's pensive 
sadness, the lyrical poesy of England was certainly dis- 
tinguished by a peculiar spirit of earnest contemplation in 
the eighteenth century in a much greater degree than that 
of Erance. Along with the veneration for Shakspere, Percy 
excited a passionate love for the old ballads and popular 
songs. The more of these were discovered, especially those 
of Scotland, the more does this poetic species appear to have 
supplanted all other kinds, the every-day requirements of 
romance and the drama alone excepted. Thus, whilst higher 
poetry began in Erance, towards the close of the seventeenth 
century, with the observance of strict and somewhat arbi- 
trary rules, and gradually sunk into the tone of social wit ; 
it commenced in England with serious reflection or descrip- 
tions of natural scenery, and ended in a general taste for early 
ballads, echoes of the lost minstrelsy of an earlier age. Of 
late years, since the re-establishment of familiar intercourse 
with England, the fame of two British poets has reached 



SCOTT AFD BYEOtf. 315 

the Continent, representing the poetic deling of our time in 
a distinct and characteristic manner. The muse of Scott 
lives only in reminiscences of the old songs of Scotland ; his 
verse is, as it were, a mosaic composed of detached frag- 
ments of romantic legend and early chivalry adapted to 
Scottish customs, and knit together with wondrous skill and 
care : just as fragmentary portions of paintings on glass out 
of Gothic churches are sometimes found in country houses 
and hermitages at the present day, neatly cemented together 
for the sake of picturesque effect. The poetry of Byron 
issues neither from reminiscence nor hope, but from the 
depths of tragic inspiration and a peculiarly disconsolate 
atheistic philosophy. His verse, with all its lofty aspira- 
tions and endowments, is lost in the mazes of infidelity 
and despair : groping in a vast crowd of strange unearthly 
shapes conjured up by midnight fancy, it deifies only a 
morbid heroism, which it invests with the gloomy spell of 
varied passion. This atheistic inspiration was not altogether 
alien to Grerman poetry at an earlier epoch ; but a purer 
sphere was soon attained, the monstrosities of false tragic 
grandeur being banished to the extreme confines of the 
drama. In the higher regions of art it was speedily dis- 
covered that modern poetry cannot flow in transparent 
stream from the turbid eddy of froward passion; but, 
founded on eternal hope, it must become a glorified ad- 
mixture of Eaith and Love, radiant as the rainbow after the 
storm, or the dawn of morn after the shades of night. Scott 
and Byron, together constituting the poetry of reminiscence 
and the poetry of despair, may be said to form the close of 
a former extinct minstrelsy, rather than the commencement 
of a new era, of which as yet there are no manifest tokens. 

Upon the whole, poetry was considerably on the decline, 
during the eighteenth century, in most countries, as con- 
trasted with the rich stores of former days ; even in those 
lands where the mode of life is in its very nature poetical, as 
in Spain, as well as in those where all the national 
characteristics are entwined with song, as in Italy. The 
latter, though unable to shew any splendid productions in 
exalted verse, at this period, such as might enter into 
competition with its earlier glories has yet evinced great 
activity in manifold dramatic development. The perform- 



316 ITALIAN DRAMA. 

ances of Mefcastasio, Groldoni, G-ozzi, Alfieri, singly dis- 
play all the elements of scenic poesy, generally found 
united in the finished dramas that have possession of our 
own stage. Metastasio is celebrated for the highest de- 
gree of melodious expression ; Goldoni depicts ordinary 
life easily and agreeably, his characters and masques being 
after genuine Italian fashion ; Grozzi's fantastic extra- 
vaganzas, while replete with really poetic invention, lack 
musical perfection and imaginative embellishment, which can, 
alone, give due effect to their poetical contents ; Alfieri' s 
aspirations after antique sublimity merit the praise bestowed 
on laudable efforts even when falling short of complete 
success. 

I know not whether the modern English drama is not 
quite as superior to that of France as its romances are ; both 
are poetical manufactures, and the English seems to be the 
best of the two. We are more interested in the Italian 
theatre on account of its closer similarity to our own, 
as regards the phenomena of external circumstances and 
late development. 

English criticism on poetry, as also on creative art gene- 
rally, was more independent, original, and imbued with 
archaeology than that of France, and therefore more in con- 
formity with the G-erman spirit. Still German criticism de- 
rived only a primary impulse from suggestions thrown out by 
Harris, Home, Hurd, and "Warton, and soon attained to an 
independent development scarcely equalled, perhaps, by any 
other branch of our literature. 

The great standards of historical composition which Eng- 
land produced during the eighteenth century are among the 
most important features of belles lettres. In this species of 
literature they have surpassed all other nations, if only in 
leading the way, and as historical models for foreign imitation. 
Unless I am mistaken, Hume ranks with the foremost in 
this department. But however great a safeguard scepticism 
may be in the process of historic investigation of facts, in 
which it can hardly be carried to excess, yet if the effects of 
doubting be to attack, to shake, nay, utterly to demolish the 
great bulwark of moral and religious principles, it little 
becomes the historian of a powerful nation, who aims at 
exercising permanent and extensive influence. 



HUME, BOEEETSON, AND GIBBON. 317 

Narrow principles, views not perfectly correct are, in this 
case, much better and more productive than a deadening want 
of sentiment, feeling, and love. A tendency to opposition 
to prevalent opinions, a leaning to paradox, are all that re- 
main to invest history, when framed after this manner, with 
any degree of interest. Now such a tendency to opposition is 
unmistakeable in Hume. In his time, the republican spirit 
of the Whigs biassed English literature almost as completely 
as it now does, and with equally doubtful influence on the 
country's welfare. How salutary soever, then, it may have 
seemed to him to abandon the prevalent Anglican severity 
of party and, attaching himself to the Opposition, to tinge a 
most important part of the national annals with evident pre- 
dilection for the unfortunate house of Stuart and sympathy 
with Tory principles, he can only be regarded as an eminent 
party-historian, the first in his peculiar method and view, 
not the truly great author of a performance at once national 
in spirit and in genius. His description of earlier times is 
very unsatisfactory : having no affection for them, he could 
not sufficiently realize them. Robertson's style is most 
attractive : his language select, and, though ornate, yet lucid 
and unaffected. His weak side is that which has regard to 
research and import, certainly the most important of all 
historic qualities. It is now universally admitted, even in 
England, that he is unreliable, superficial, and often full of 
errors as to facts : yet his style is wont to be held up as a 
pattern, owing, probably, to the degeneracy of taste. But 
even his style is, in my opinion, too verbose and antithetical. 
Pine writing and an attempt at artistic rhetorical treatment 
of History throughout are calculated, as I conceive, to lead 
to injudicious results. If history is to be treated as an art, 
it will be difficult indeed for any modern nation to equal or 
even come near to the perfection of the ancients. It is more 
possible to excel them in another way ; namely, by treating 
history rather as a science, to which end our improved ma- 
terials and increased resources cannot fail to avail us. Keep- 
ing this in view, that style will be found best adapted to 
the purpose which shall combine simplicity, care, appropri- 
ateness, with lucidity, absence of superfluous words, and of 
artificial far-fetched ornament. Gibbon is copious in reflec- 
tions : his style is, in detail, particularly excellent, but he is 



318 EOSCOE, COXE, AND EOX. 

too uniformly rich in ornament. His page is replete with 
Latin and French idiomatic turns : owing to the mixed 
character of the English language winch has no definite fixed 
boundary of speech. Gibbon's artificial half-Latin manner was 
more especially introduced by Johnson : in principle, at least, 
the English have partially given it up, as doing violence to 
the genius of their language. As regards internal merit, 
whilst copious and attractive, he is, nevertheless, unsatisfac- 
tory : owing to the absence of right feeling, and the presence 
of Voltaire's spirit of mockery at religion, at all times un- 
worthy of a historian, and not even easy or natural in 
Gibbon, since it militates against his laboured elegance of 
expression, and seems an awkward attempt at witticism. But 
in spite of the deficiencies I have mentioned, these three lead- 
ing English historians, the first of their respective kinds, are 
deservedly held in high esteem, appearing the more merito- 
rious when contrasted with some of their successors. It is 
only necessary to compare Roscoe, with all his richness of Ita- 
lian lore, yet dry and methodical, with Gibbon; Coxe attrac- 
tive and interesting, yet less lofty and classicalin his style, with 
Eobertson; or Pox, the statesman, with Hume ; to ascertain 
the declining condition of historical science in England. One 
of the causes of the declension is perhaps the want of a fixed 
and satisfactory system of philosophy : this is sensibly felt 
to have operated even in the case of those three historical 
models. Without some definite perception of the moral 
existence of man, his origin and his destination, the historian 
is hardly competent to decide, or even clearly understand, 
all the circumstances relative to national events, develop- 
ments, and fortunes. Upon the whole, History and Philo- 
sophy ought ever to be as closely united as possible. If 
wholly disjoined from history, and devoid of a spirit of 
criticism resulting from a junction of the two, Philosophy 
can scarcely hope to attain to anything higher than fierce 
sectarianism or empty formulas : since, in the former case, 
it misconstrues the temper of the times, and for want of due 
discrimination makes havoc of their general features : in the 
latter, it takes no interest whatever in man's existence and 
actions. "Without the animating principle of philosophy, 
history is but a senseless heap of waste materials, destitute 
of inner unity, fixity of purpose, or definite result. The want 



HISTORY OF MANKIND. 319 

of satisfactory convictions and principles is nowhere more 
strikingly evinced than in the so-called history of man, which 
formed a favourite subject of inquiry in England, and was 
thence transplanted to Germany. An immense number of 
travels and voyages were laid under contribution to furnish 
matter for pictures of the fisher, the hunter, the migratory 
races, and different conditions of agricultural, commercial, 
and domestic life. This was called a history of man : and 
no doubt many individual observations of considerable value 
were thus brought together ; even the connexion with phy- 
sical and natural views of man according to the variety of 
his stock and outward appearance — white or swarthy, copper- 
coloured or yellow. But detached observations of this kind 
only realize an actual value in proportion as they illustrate 
the loftier connexion of the whole. So long, however, as this 
unity was wanting, what chance was there of a reasonable 
solution of the question, which alone constitutes a genuine 
history of man : namely, his actual nature, his origiual con- 
dition and mode of life, and the reason of his fall to that 
comparatively deplorable state in which we now see him ? 
The answer to this strictly historical question, forming 
the beginning and the end of all history, is to be found 
only in religion and philosophy — that Christian philosophy 
whose sole aim and endeavour are bent upon thoroughly 
understanding religion. As soon as history quits the li- 
mited circle described by the existing traditions and events 
of various races and ages, and casts longing glances at 
humanity as a collective whole, the fundamental philosophy 
of revelation is alone able to afford correct interpretation of 
its meaning, and a guide to the right path : otherwise there 
will be constant danger of viewing mankind, in the several 
stages of development, as a mere natural production. The 
Divine disposal of mundane affairs, in the sequence of dif- 
ferent periods and historical eras, can be comprehended 
only in the depths of spiritual perception. In a word, the 
necessary connexion of profane with sacred history — in its 
beginning, middle, and end — is alone to be gathered, in a 
lucid and satisfactory manner, from spiritual Christian views. 
The spurious history of mankind, which characteristically 
proceeded from the corrupt sensual material philosophy 
prevalent in the eighteenth century, is based upon a belief 



320 SCEPTICISM AND MOEAL BELIEF. 

that man grew out of the ground like a mushroom, but with 
the additional properties of locomotion and consciousness. 
According to the same theory, the formation of these pro- 
perties was the work of ages ; and what was particularly 
aimed at in similar histories was to analyze the gradual 
development of intelligence and spirit, of art and science, 
from the regions of the animal kingdom step by step. The 
more minutely the connexion between man and the orang- 
outang — a favourite with many philosophers of the age — was 
traced, the more deeply philosophical the inquiry was sup- 
posed to be. Surrounded, as we are, by boundless wealth 
of materials and resources, of ancient records, of geographical 
and other treasures, and able to take a retrospective glance 
at many centuries, we are in the very position to treat the 
history of the world as a science, in the real acceptation of 
the word ; within whose vast boundaries political history, too, 
might be made to assume a totally new complexion. But in 
order to erect a structure such as this, the vast array of 
materials at our command should be raised on the old theo- 
logical foundations, and well cemented, which, as yet, has 
not been done. The various histories of man hitherto in 
vogue were built on the yielding sand of unassisted rational 
hypothesis or natural observation, cemented by a sensuous 
philosophy. But history as an art, and as first and most ex- 
tensively practised in England in modern times, has only pro- 
duced rhetorical master-pieces destitute of genuine science. 
The philosophy of sensation unwittingly suggested by 
Bacon, and first reduced to actual principles by Locke, which 
in France led to immoral and destructive consequences, estab- 
lished a distinct sect, and eventually terminated in complete 
and extensively diffused atheism, took a different turn in 
England. Similar results could not well attend it in that 
country : the universal feeling of national welfare and 
of its concomitants, which would evidently have been im- 
perilled by the spread of such doctrines as obtained in 
Erance, would have been repugnant to its systematic pro- 
gress. The English spirit is, moreover, naturally inclined to 
seize on the paradoxical and sceptical rather than on the ma- 
terial and atheistical views of the philosophy in question. 
It will be remembered that Berkeley was induced to entertain 



BERKELEY AND HUME. 321 

the strangest notions in consequence of pursuing Locke's 
system : inasmuch as lie was desirous of blending his religious 
belief with the tenets of Locke, whilst the former was 
too deeply rooted to admit of thorough eradication. The 
difficulty that seemed incomprehensible to philosophers of 
that day — and necessarily so — was to explain the mind's 
apprehension and knowledge of external objects. For all 
that we perceive and feel in external creation is after all a 
mere impression effecting some variation in ourselves. 
Examine it as we choose, we receive the impression of the 
object, not the object itself, which seems continually to elude 
our grasp. If we cousider nature as animate, or at least as 
a means, an instrument, a visible Word of Life, all confusion 
is removed, and light breaks in upon us. It cannot be un- 
intelligible to our faculties that two living, mutually opera- 
ting, spiritual natures, are acted upon by a third apparently 
inanimate medium and instrument, namely, speech or lan- 
guage which serves in the capacity of a connecting medium. 
This is felt every moment of our existence ; we neither live 
nor move, nor at any time commune with ourselves, unless 
through the instrumentality of words. But this plain con- 
viction, namely: that the sensible world is merely the habi- 
tation of the intellectual, and a medium of separation as 
well as of connection between spiritual natures, was lost 
sight of ; and with it a due appreciation of intellect and an 
animating assurance of its existence. Thus the philosophy 
of sense first transgressed its principles, and, passing over 
the most essential questions and solutions, fell from one 
degree of confusion into another. Berkeley proceeded so 
far as to deny the utter existence of external objects, and 
held that God was the direct prompter of our several 
notions and impressions ; oppressed by similar doubts, 
Hume adopted a view altogether different — a sceptical view 
which, thrown into dismay by the law of inextricable doubt, 
at last denied the certainty of all knowledge. His all-perva- 
ding and destructive scepticism determined the course of 
English philosophy. Since his day, nothing further has been 
effected in this department of inquiry than strenuous efforts 
to arrest pernicious influences, tending to sap the very 
foundations of moral order and to uphold the fabric of 
necessary convictions by means of various bulwarks. The 

Y 



322 ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 

dominant idea of national welfare was not confined to Adam 
Smith, but constitutes the chief point, the centre, and invisible 
regulator of collective English philosophy. Yet, however 
laudable and proper continual reference to this paramount 
centre point undoubtedly is, this idea, of itself, by no means 
suffices as a decisive oracle in all matters of knowledge and 
science. Such supports are, at the best, frail and feeble, 
and ill-calculated to endure even for the practical purposes 
of life, the course of which, sooner or later, must correspond 
with intellectual conviction and development. In the absence 
of an impossible perfection of human knowledge, sound 
common sense and moral sympathy or conscience have been 
proposed as fitting substitutes. But natural common sense, 
even if it were always sound and universal in the degree for 
which credit is taken, would rather cut the Grordian knot of 
philosophy than untie it. But the innate curiosity of our 
moral nature is not to be eradicated, and the great question 
relative to the inner ground of knowledge and of all truth 
will recur, though put off ever so often. Moral sympathy 
or conscience alone is inadequate to the requirements of 
ethics ; unless the immutable law of justice be superadded, 
and this can never be derived from mere experience or feel- 
ing, but from reason and God alone. To this end firm con- 
viction, definite faith, is absolutely essential. Faith, however, 
such as English philosophers grounded on the deductions of 
common sense, or on the principles of morality recognized 
by them, or which, at any rate, w r ere currently recognized, 
and on estimable feelings, is necessarily of as vacillating a 
nature as those foundations themselves. Such faith does 
not come up to our standard. Our faith is a conviction 
firm and unalterable as that derived from reason and outer 
experience, and even more so, but drawn from a very different 
source, and reached by another path, that of inner perception, 
higher revelation, and Divine tradition. The so-called faith 
of English philosophers is a fabricated self-doubting faith of 
necessity, as little calculated to stand in the hour of danger 
as the lifeless confessional faith of the unreflecting. "We 
have here the melancholy example of a nation energetic and 
free in all its life and action, in poetry given to profundity 
rather than to mere transitory externals, fettered by its 
philosophy in self-constructed chains ; so that under its 



ENGLISH PHILOSOPHY. 323 

dominion the national genius has of late years achieved less 
original development, and appears to possess less thorough- 
ness, than what characterizes some of the leading writers 
among the French. If it be the case that there are in- 
stances of English philosophers who have trodden devious 
paths of their own, diverging from the main road I have 
been describing, they have, for the most part, exercised no 
important general influence : nor am I acquainted with any 
such attempts calling for special notice. 

Thus, English philosophy may be likened to a man having 
a hale and healthy look whilst the germs of some fatal malady 
lie within him, which, being checked by palliatives in the 
first instance, has been only driven back into the sys- 
tem. Just as in the body politic, the seeds of revolu- 
tionary commotion were never yet entirely extinguished in 
England, but are kept down and distributed in infinitesimal 
particles by the ingenious equilibrium of its wonderful con- 
stitution : so in the domains of intellect, decided materialism 
or the destructive spirit of unconditional scepticism has 
been hitherto restrained, by certain moral palliatives or 
checks, from alarming results of a general and extensive 
character. But it can hardly be expected that the disease 
of philosophic error and irreligion is to be cured by any ap- 
pliance short of a radical internal remedy : and in this kind 
of practice, too, it is to be feared that long-continued 
chronic disorder is no less dangerous in its debilitating con- 
sequences than acute illness. I therefore consider it highly 
probable, nay, almost certain, that an important crisis still 
impends over the philosophy and, as necessarily connected 
with it, over the moral and religious mind of England. 

Leaving immediate and practical results out of view, and 
regarding only the inner development of mind, one would be 
almost inclined to hold complete and open error to be less 
perilous than when half-disguised. In the latter case, 
hidden danger lurks beneath insidious self-deception : whilst; 
the intellect rebounds the more freely from extreme tension, 
and rises from the abyss of error in which it has sunk with 
so much greater strength and vigour. 

France witnessed a similar and very remarkable return to 
truth and genuine philosophy. "When the altars, so recently 
dedicated to Eeason, the goddess of the age, was personated 



32 i FRENCH PHILOSOPHY. 

by an actress, perhaps more truthfully than her devotees 
suspected, were purified and once more consecrated to sound 
religion — and when the new church, destitute of all fixed 
creed, and styling itself Theo-philanthropy, was likewise 
dissolved — the voice of suppressed truth resounded from all 
parts. I am not now alluding exclusively to the dis- 
tinguished writer who devoted the whole of his splendid 
and exuberant eloquence to the cause of religion. For 
though it was laudable, reasonable, and directly essential 
to the best interests of France of that day, that Chateau- 
briand should especially depict the lovely and beneficent 
effects of Christianity, yet he stopped short at its external 
manifestation and splendour, and did not penetrate the 
depths of its inner spiritual essence. Since then, Lamennais 
has treated the subject with much greater depth : his hap- 
piest efforts are those in which, with fervent piety, he 
reflects the light and fulness of faith. He is less successful 
when engaged in a contest to which his powers are inade- 
quate, namely, the attempting to base the law of faith on 
the annihilation of all science, as Kant, Jacobi, and their 
adherents previously attempted in Germany, though only in 
a metaphysical point of view ; so that in reference to this he 
unconsciously appears as a disciple of Kant, but with Catholic 
views. Yet, it can surely be no longer consistent with 
French interests to attack science with the hostile and de- 
structive weapons of Rousseau's impassioned eloquence ; let 
us rather trust we are nearer the time when genuine science, 
profiting by the dissolution of its spurious opponent and 
thoroughly penetrated with the truths of religion, may effect 
a lasting reconciliation with it, and henceforth minister to 
its increased glory. Count de Maistre, well versed as he is 
in the profounder secrets of philosophy, and one who has 
deeply studied the Catholic cause, is nearer to this goal 
than any other ultra-writer. We may easily pardon his 
misconception of the German mind. 

There were yet other means by which the philosophy of 
the age was sought to be extended, and a loftier system 
founded in France. French writers of eminent talents and 
attainments devoted their energies to naturalize the spirit 
of German inquiry in their own country. Among these, 
the first rank is occupied by that gifted authoress who 



FKE^CH PHILOSOPHY. 325 

endured so much in outward life, and whose mental conflicts 
were so severe ; who depicted the revolution, the times and 
the actors, with inimitable genius and in a manner more 
intelligible to Trance than any other writer.* But many- 
obstacles seemed to. stand in the way of another of her 
attempts, to which she devoted all the powers of her extra- 
ordinary genius, namely, — that of rendering the art and 
i aence of G-ermany accessible to French students. Partial 
failure may be attributed to too comprehensive a plan which 
took the entire range of literature, instead of being at first 
icted :; the most necessary and essential doctrines of 
philosophy. 

But here, taking France as a whole, another obstacle 
presented itself, inasmuch as the intellectual development 
could not be separated from the religious ; and the entire 
German literature as well as G-ermau philosophy, espe- 
cially at this period, had a decided Protestant colouring 
which, in the actual state of France, must have been unia- 
vourable.to its reception. The first expounders of the G-er- 
man mind and G-erman science, gave a too exclusive Pro- 
best ant eh : : :ter to their literary undertaking, which, though 
in accordance with their personal standing, was but one-sided. 
Time only can remedy this violent separation ; the better 
class of French writers, I mean those who unite sound 
philosophy with religion, will one day be aware what a trea- 
sure of materials, what aids and new organs, exist even in 
the Catholic mind of G-ermany. Harmony in philosophy 
and religion, and communion in it, can only flourish 
among different nations when each is in a state of har- 
mony within itself. Unquestionably, an increase of par- 
tial illumination from without cannot lead to this issue as 
long as the higher truth and firm conviction does not exist at 
the centre. This cannot be effected by a mere outward con- 
ventional belief founded on political reasons. Everything 
depends on the progress and development of internal con- 
ric lion. 

Perhaps the most important and essential feature in recent 

I rench literature is the return to a higher moral purity, a 

Platonic Christian philosophy, which here and there, haa 

emerged from the lowest abyss of the prevalent Atheism. 

* Madame de Stael. 



326 ST. MAKTIK A.TTD BOFALD. 

This renovation in some measure took place before the Revo- 
lution during the most corrupt times, but did not come into 
full operation until a return was made to the fixed prin- 
ciples of religion which had alone maintained its integrity. 
There were always a few right-minded thinkers standing 
aloof from the general corruption of the age, And I would 
here first name Hemsterhuys, who, though not a Frenchman 
by birth, yet wrote in that language, and that, too, with so 
much grace and harmony, and so free from affectation, that, 
in this respect alone, his Socratic dialogues correspond to 
the noble Platonic Christian philosophy which characterises 
the spirit of his works. There are, however, two names that, 
in an especial manner, mark the progress made in the 
direction of Christian philosophy. St. Martin, the first of 
these two, had both before, and during the Revolution, in a 
series of writings purporting to emanate from " the Unknown 
Philosopher," and unnoticed by the crowd, but so much the 
more effective with the few, re-erected the ancient system of 
spiritualism, which appears new in our day, unaccustomed 
as we long have been to serious thoughts of the Eternal. 
Ronald, on the other hand, the fearless opponent of the Re- 
volution, and the profound champion of monarchy according 
to the old French regime, laboured to adapt the vital 
principles and properties of this latter to a peculiar Chris- 
tian theory of statesmanship ; in his Christian Philosophy, his 
latest work, he would seem to have comprehended the idea 
of an eternal mediating "Word, as its foundation, with toler- 
able precision and clearness. Both of these authors com- 
bine many excellent points with much that stands in need of 
improvement and correction. Their defects are attributable 
partly to certain predilections of their country, partly to 
the circumstances in which they were placed, having to con- 
tend with difficulties arising out of their own age, and being 
thus liable to entertain erroneous notions concerning other 
times and nations. National prejudice is Bonald's besetting 
sin, which tends to limit his usefulness in various ways : 
St. Martin's system seems to have suffered not indeed from 
contact with the meagre realities of our age, but from 
depressing circumstances. Meanwhile, the opposition that 
had been charged against him to existing church govern- 
ment is more apparent than real, as far as he is himself 



ST. MAETIN. 327 

concerned. If this objection can be raised against his ad- 
herents in Trance or Eussia with a greater show of truth, 
we need not be surprised thereat ; for it is customary with 
the disciples of great men in any field of inquiry to imitate 
any and every quality of their master's rather than his 
moderation. But if St. Martin did not approve of the then 
existing state of his Church in all things, and especially 
complained of the decline of religious knowledge, he was 
justified, to a considerable degree, by the wild revolutionary 
spirit and general complexion of the age. Be this as it may, 
the misunderstanding is in itself blameable and calculated 
to obstruct those religious interests he had so sincerely at 
heart ; inasmuch as an erroneous impression might go 
forth that the recognition of Divine truth is exclusively 
based on internal conviction and enlightenment, and 
may be disjoined from positive tradition and the visible 
Church. But at no time did St. Martin really set up any 
hostile opposition to genuine religious inquiry. On the con- 
trary, he everywhere expresses a wish that the recognition 
of truth should become the exclusive property and instru- 
ment of religion, and be joined to the clerical office ; thus 
exalting, rather than depreciating its value by the standard 
then in vogue, and which was in accordance with the tenets 
of that sensuous philosophy he had never ceased to combat, 
with unabating vigour. All this, however, concerns externals 
only ; St. Martin's doctrine being in no case at variance 
with the system of Catholic belief, but rather in complete 
accordance with it, as his philosophy is not merely Mosaic, 
but truly Christian. In its peculiar species, and partly in 
its origin, ib is connected with that Oriental Platonism 
which, as has previously been remarked, though proscribed 
from learned halls and doctrinal chairs after the Eevolu- 
tion, was still propagated in secret and upheld by private 
tradition. The most lucid and perfect representation of 
it throughout the range of Trench literature and of the 
present age is contained in his writings. If this author, 
then, cannot lay claim to the merit of having invented a 
new system, and if that which he accepted is in many re- 
spects defective, yet it cannot but be a remarkable circum- 
stance that, at a time when France was wholly given up to 
Atheism, there appeared an obscure philosopher whose in- 



328 DE MAISTRE AND BONALD. 

dividual and undivided attention was devoted to the refuta- 
tion of Atheistic doctrine, and who, in its place, established 
a Divine philosophy based on holy tradition ; and we must 
rejoice to see that, amongst so many apologists of Catho- 
licism, Count de Maistre has had the intelligence to perceive 
what a vast store of knowledge, if rightly applied, had 
hitherto remained for the service of religion. 

The exertions of Bonald are scarcely less remarkable, 
though at first the attention they commanded was limited; 
whilst others, at the commencement of the century, laboured 
to restore religion only as a political necessity, and a 
national creed, this learned jurist and political economist 
ventured in good earnest, and from hearty conviction, to 
found the theory of justice on Grod alone, and to reconcile 
statesmanship with the doctrines of Christianity. In a rigidly 
philosophical point of view he is open to a single charge, that 
of intermixing and almost identifying reason and revelation, 
without adequately maintaining the dignity of the latter. 
Meanwhile, it had been customary in Trance not only to 
disjoin the two, but likewise to set them in diametrical op- 
position and prevent the possibility of contact. Many 
champions of religion impaired their usefulness by an indis- 
criminate rejection of all philosophy; and yet dialectic 
reasoning is so thoroughly implanted in our nature that if 
false theories are really to be exploded it can be effected 
only by the substitution of more genuine ones. Bonald 
errs in the other extreme, since he altogether desires to sub- 
ject Christianity to the reasoning and argumentative faculties. 
Truth herself, when confronting error, is frequently led into 
extreme views. Accordingly, it need create no surprise that 
similar infirmities beset St. Martin and Bonald, the leading 
French thinkers of the eighteenth century. To these names 
may be added that of Count de Maistre, whose views are 
more satisfactory and complete. In his work on the Pope 
he has explained with admirable clearness the basis of the 
Catholic laith, while in his philosophical Dialogues, he has 
brought within our horizon, the most sublime views of 
religious science. 

Circumstances have not hitherto been favourable in 
England to a radical change in philosophy. Such great 
external incidents as a world-wide commerce* the British 



SIR "WILLIAM JONES AKD BTJRKE. 329 

constitution, India and continental affairs, exclusively engage 
the active spirit of that practical people. The engrossing 
pursuits of a gigantic commerce scarcely admit of general 
philosophic habits of investigation ; hence England > must be 
content with ranking subordinate to France in this depart- 
ment. Other inducements, too, are wanting to produce a 
change similar to that obtaining among the French, viz., 
a revolution, political or intellectual, immediately preceding. 
Eight sentiment and feeling are more particularly evinced 
in Britain by maintaining its ancient grandeur in unimpaired 
integrity, and by more deeply fixing it in massive and 
solid foundations. It is true there has been no lack lately 
of English writers, philosophers and orators, first of their 
respective kinds, serving as monuments of British genius, 
and inaugurating the dawn of a new era, the commence- 
ment of a new state of things as yet scarcely understood, 
whilst former conditions are fading away. Thus Sir William 
Jones, one of the ripest of English scholars, opened up to suc- 
ceeding students a new mode of comprehending oriental, espe- 
cially Indian archaeology, in a devout spirit of inquiry, affect- 
ing the interests of humanity and the truths of holy Writ. 
This very experiment of Asiatic inquiry, if pursued with en- 
ergy and spirit, as has been the case in some instances, would 
materially tend to enlarge the sphere of British thought ; ac- 
cess to sublime philosophy would be more congenial to Eng- 
lishmen by way of practical application of an universal his- 
tory than by way of speculative contemplation solely. Burke, 
that consummate statesman and orator, shed abroad over 
the whole of Europe, and, judging from the frequent use 
made of it, over Germany especially, a copious store ol 
political sagacity and moral experience drawn from the 
primitive source of all political wisdom. He was the deli- 
verer of his age when it was involved in the storms of Ee- 
volution, and without maintaining any system of philosophy, 
he saw further 'into the constitution of states, and into reli- 
gion as the bond of social and political existence than any 
philosophy could have done. And so it happened that whilst 
France struggled through the whirlpool of troublous times, 
and from the dark abyss of intellectual corruption and 
infidelity sought the light of eternal truth, England afforded 
some great and genial illustrations of deep-rooted positive 
principles in science and practical life. 



330 



LECTUEE XV. 

Retrospect. — German Philosophy. — Spinoza and Leib- 
nitz. — Language and Poetry of Germany during 
the Sixteenth and Seyenteenth Centuries ; Luther, 
Hans Sachs, Jacob Bg:hmen.— Opitz and the Silesian 
School.— -Degeneracy of Taste aeter the Peace of 
Westphalia : Occasional Poems. — German Poets 
of the first hale of the Eighteenth Century. — 
Erederjc II. — Klopstcck: the Messiah and Nor- 
thern Mythology. — Wieland's chiyalrous Poetry. 
— Metrical quantity of the Ancients adapted 
to the German Language. — Defence of Ehyme. — 
Adelung, Gottsched, and the so-called Golden 
Age, — First Generation of Modern German Lite- 
rature, or Period of the Pounders. 

It may seem somewhat superfluous at the present day to 
combat the philosophy of the eighteenth century, the shade, 
as it were, of a departed enemy. But it is not really so, 
how much soever outward appearances may serve to favour 
the opinion. An evil is by no means wholly eradicated 
because it is less visible. In England, the disease never 
came to a head, and could not, therefore, receive a radical 
cure. In that country, as in Prance, there are individual 
and honourable exceptions, the omens of a better time: 
glorious and refreshing symptoms of the restoration and in- 
exhaustible energies of' Truth. But is the general tone of 
thinking altered, especially among men of learning and 
science ? By no means : in Erance, the latter class still 
adopt the old system of considering the world, with its 
varied phenomena, as composed of corporeal atoms or mole- 
cules : that is to say, they take a material view of things, 
one which cannot fail to be most unsatisfactory and imprac- 
ticable. Of all hypotheses, materialism is at once the most 
arbitrary and unsubstantial for the interests of science, and 
in its consequences the most pernicious to the vitality of 
morals, of national progress, and of religion. These conse- 



GERMAN PHILOSOPHY. 331 

guences may not indeed "be so openly applied to practice, 
owing to increased experience and circumspection : yet it is 
painful to behold men of science, occupying high positions, 
so far below zero in all that deserves the name of philosophy. 
Such is the condition of affairs abroad : notwithstanding the 
return of public opinion to the right path, and the peculiar 
energy and sincerity characterizing some few individuals who 
walk in it. In Germany, the prevalent malady of the age — 
false philosophy and epidemic rationalism — took a different 
course, and exhibited features milder in form and practically 
less injurious from increased artificiality. It would, however, 
be altogether erroneous to suppose that Germany was exempt 
from the common malady, or to argue from a changed or 
disguised exterior that the infection was not substantially 
identical, emanating from the self-same source. Coarse 
materialism and the shallow atomic theory were never, 
indeed, able to strike deep root in the German mind : but, 
on the other hand, rationalism so deadening to the faculties 
became dominant in theology, and produced there a false 
illumination, as in the Schools a restless love of systems and 
empty formulas was the form which the malady assumed in 
the case of the great majority of ordinary thinkers and in the 
lower regions of intellectual life. But if some few men of 
commanding genius, tearing asunder the web of abstract 
rationalism, discovered both the beginning and the end, from 
which it would not have been difficult for the earnest inquirer 
to retrace his steps to the path of Revelation and Divine 
truth: still, there were many distinguished minds who only 
exchanged the errors of rationalism for a dreamy pantheism. 
This new evil, being of a more subtle nature, is confined to 
the higher regions of intellect, and bars the way to Truth 
and Christian philosophy : whilst the illiterate herd are ready, 
at the slightest prompting, to relapse into the old formulas 
of empty abstraction under its heterogeneous modifications. 
But both these evils, the common and the more refined, 
though not so startling as thorough obduracy or unmitigated 
confusion of intellectual life, as evinced in the English and 
Trench schools of philosophy, are of sufficient magnitude to 
forbid the idea that Germany has been wholly free from 
aberrations of this sort ; against which the highest flights of 
genius are not, of themselves, any valid security. 



332 LEIBNITZ. 

If German philosophy did not at once fall into such violent 
extremes as that of France, it was not owing to any general 
popular regard for the national welfare, as was the case in 
England : for this feeling could hardly be engendered in a 
nation which was divided into a number of petty states. The 
most that can be affirmed of this intricate polity of several 
disjoined states is that, whilst eminently favourable to the 
formal and hair-splitting subtleties of jurisprudence, it suc- 
ceeded in instilling into established formulas a spirit of 
judicial integrity ; as also in checking, to some degree, 
avowed theories of decided injustice, such as those of Macchia- 
velli or Hobbes : until, eventually, the practice of the age be- 
came bolder and paved the way for those fearful theories. The 
mainstay of philosophy in Germany, and that which most of 
all tended, at first, to preserve it from the adoption of graver 
errors, was more especially the fact of its inheriting numerous 
reminiscences of the older philosophy, and preserving that 
thread of connexion with it which had been severed and lost 
sight of both in England and France. In this respect, 
Leibnitz was of especial benefit to his country : though even 
he may be compared to a physician seeking to prevent for a 
time the violent outbreaks of a virulent disorder, by means 
of palliatives, rather than attempting a radical cure. His 
philosophy, nevertheless, since he was profound as w T ell as 
thoughtful, contained reminiscences suggestive of the past. 
The more his hypotheses resembled ingenious methods for 
solving antiquated problems, the more they served to incite 
future inquirers, possessing courage, genius, and inspi- 
ration, to explore all the labyrinths of thought, and 
the mysteries of knowledge. Chronologically speaking, he 
belongs to the transition-period, when the philosophy of the 
seventeenth century trenched upon that of the eighteenth, 
one of the most important eras of the human mind. 
But since both he and his philosophy were almost confined 
to Germany, making a very faint impression on France and 
England, I have deferred mentioning him until now. So, 
also, in the case of his opponent, Spinoza, the effect of 
whose doctrines was but little evident in his own country,* 
any more than in France and England, whilst it was most 

* This philosopher was bom at Amsterdam, in 1632, of Portuguese 
parents. — TransL note. 



spinoza. 833 

sensibly felt in Germany. Spinoza's fundamental error — 
that of confounding God with the world, inasmuch as he 
denies the independence and substantiality of all indi- 
vidual being, discerning in the same merely so many varied 
manifestations of the power and energy of One, Eternal, All- 
comprehensive Being — virtually abolishes Religion. For in 
depriving God of personal attributes and man of liberty, he 
in reality declares immorality, falsehood, and irreligion, to 
be nothing but mere appearances, and thus removes the 
essential difference between good and evil. This error is in 
such close affinity with mere natural reason as perhaps to 
constitute the earliest which immediately followed original 
Truth: only that Spinoza reduced Pantheism to a more 
scientific form. This by-path is one to which even scientific 
reason, when seeking to attain the knowledge of the Truth 
by purely unassisted means, is so prone, that Descartes, 
from whose system that of Spinoza more immediately pro- 
ceeded, was only saved from falling over the precipice at 
whose brink he stood by his want of depth and decision. 
And here it is necessary to guard against confounding the 
error and the man. It frequently happens that he who 
is the first to point to a new path of error, or to traverse 
it to the end with determination and decision, is far less 
objectionable' than his successors, who adopt a route 
equally wrong with hesitating vacillation. Spinoza's moral 
theory, though not that of Christianity, for he was not a 
Christian himself, is pure and noble as that of the Stoics of 
antiquity, if not superior. What is so much to his advan- 
tage when contrasted with opponents who do not understand 
or feel his depth, or with those who, half unconsciously, have 
entered on similar paths of error, is not merely the scientific 
clearness and decision of his mode of thought but that his 
whole system seems cast in one mould ; as he thought, so he 
felt. His cannot be termed the worship of Nature, such as 
fires the bosom of the poet, the artist, or the naturalist ; 
still less is it real love or devotion, for how could this feeling 
find any congenial object of regard in the absence of faith in 
a personal God ? An all-penetrating feeling of the Infinite 
is especially associated with all his sentiments, and lifts him 
above the world of sense. Every decisive error which is 
fundamentally wrong is equally exceptionable, and it might 



334 spinoza. 

appear as though no graduated scale could be formed 
under such circumstances. Yet if a comparison be in- 
stituted between Spinoza's error and the atheism of the 
eighteenth century, a great distinction will at once become 
apparent. This material philosophy, if it may be so called, 
which endeavours to explain all things by matter, and assigns 
the foremost place to sense, is so grievous an error as almost 
to sink below the region of humanity. Seldom is it the 
good fortune of individuals who have once fallen into this 
abyss to give any promise of escape from it ; though it may 
easily happen that a whole nation or an age may revolt from 
the philosophy of sense after having seen its moral conse- 
quences unfolded in all their deformity. The lofty spiritual- 
ism of Spinoza's theory may, on the other hand, disclose to 
the active and searching inquirer many routes whereby the 
path of truth is to be regained. It cannot, however, be de- 
nied that a species of error which is calculated to ensnare 
the noblest intellects is at the same time the most insidious 
and ruinous : the direct results may be practically less per- 
nicious, but the seeds of mischief are all the more deeply 
rooted, and will sooner or later entail destructive effects upon 
a whole nation or age, much in the same way as a disease 
in the human body when it has seized on the most vital 
parts. Such was that refined Pantheism, a mental disorder 
threatening the very citadel of life, which assumed a variety 
of shapes in Germany. Now it appears in a magical exu- 
berance of enthusiastic fancy, now critically weighing, dis- 
cerning, and recognizing individual points as historical facts, 
though thoroughly comprehending the whole ; whilst occa- 
sionally it is found half hidden in the worn-out paradoxes of 
dialectic ingenuity. Thereby all sense of truth is perma- 
nently and generally undermined, and the faculty of ascer- 
taining and grasping what is positive]y divine : as also the 
solid certainties of life and perception as a whole, are in- 
volved in common ruin. This doom can only be met or averted 
by a truly Christian philosophy such as Leibnitz constructed, 
both in idea and design the most perspicuous at this epoch. 
He may justly, therefore, be regarded as the crown and 
summit of the older European school of modern philoso- 
phy, exclusively appertaining to no one nation : the circle 
of which is formed by Bacon, Descartes, and Spinoza, and 



LEIBNITZ. 335 

himself. It would have been well if the track of these 
eminent explorers had been pursued further with constancy 
and assiduous zeal. Leibnitz undoubtedly left the Idea of his 
philosophic system in an unfinished state, and accordingly he 
was unable completely to overcome the evil which even in 
his time lurked under the guise of strictly inclusive isolation, 
though he perceived it in the germ, and aimed at its de- 
struction. 

The system of Leibnitz in many respects refers to that 
of Spinoza. It is essentially militant almost throughout, 
though it does not always take a polemic form. Yet it every- 
where counteracts the existing philosophy of the age, rebut- 
ting its objections, solving doubts, supplying deficiencies, 
adapting itself to the spirit and exigencies of the times, and 
mediating generally. Rarely is its action independent, or 
absolute. Bayle, the literary sceptic, and Locke the founder 
of the sensuous philosophy, were his principal antagonists, 
not to speak of other and more personal controversies. But 
at the head of all these opponents Spinoza stands in 
marked pre-eminence; with him Leibnitz contends as 
with some invisible yet formidable opponent, even when 
he does not mention him by name. In like manner he 
has omitted to enumerate several philosophers with whose 
opinions he coincides, and who were not so well known 
to fame : he is also silent as to the actual sources whence 
he often drew his arguments. Definitely to avow the ex- 
istence of an infinite world of spirits, of which the world 
of sense is a mere external covering, was not in keeping 
with his characteristic features. The doctrine of innate 
ideas, such as he conceived, leads to a system of abstract 
notions to be imagined as though indigenous or impressed 
upon the intellect in the shape of a lifeless plan, rather than 
to be perceived as the inner working of a living spirit. 
The doctrine of unconscious conceptions might introduce the 
inquirer to a nearer route leading to this end : inasmuch as 
the acknowledgment that our consciousness is incomplete, 
or in other words that we are only half aware of our own 
consciousness, the other half being hidden from our eyes, 
constitutes at least the first step towards penetrating the 
mysteries, the secret laboratory of the soul. Thus in the 
world of sense the stars at night correctly inform us re- 



336 LEIBNITZ. 

specting the luminary of day and its true course. On the 
other hand, the hypothesis started by Leibnitz, namely, that 
all objects of sense are a mere contused chaos composed of 
simple essences or monads, lying in a dormant state and as 
yet undeveloped to complete consciousness — is much too 
nearly connected with the atomic theory of Epicurus and of 
modern atheism, and after all constitutes only a sort of un- 
successful medium between it and the perfect recognition of 
a spiritual world. Again, his mode of solving the chief dif- 
ficulty which baffled the philosophy of his time, in reference 
to the nature of the connection subsisting between spirit and 
matter, is but an ingenious artifice. In assuming that the 
Creator had originally brought both into harmonious unison, 
as a skilful mechanician might contrive to do in the case of 
two time-pieces, his argument is based on the presumption 
that this world is nothing more than an artistic mechanical 
contrivance. His celebrated TJieodicee, or vindication of 
God, a treatise affording an explanation relative to the unde- 
niable amount of wickedness and evil present in the world, 
is a reply to a question which will always force itself on 
natural reason. It is couched in the dexterous terms of a 
practised diplomatist, whose business it is on all occasions to 
bring into prominent relief the points most favourable to his 
sovereign, and studiously to abstain from entering on those 
topics which, seemingly or really, tell against his interests. 
It is altogether impossible for mere rational philosophy to 
answer the question relative to the origin of evil and the 
imperfections of the world without either totally ignoring 
their existence in defiance of common sense, or ascribing 
them to the handiwork of the Almighty himself, which is re- 
volting to all right feelings. But the theory of Leibnitz which 
elicited the most pointed shafts of Voltaire's satire, namely, 
the assertion that this world is the best of all possible worlds,* 
has found its counterpart, in our own day, in the views of a 
celebrated thinker : who, referring all things to self, holds 
that the world was fashioned for the sole purpose of exer- 
cising and developing the energies of human intellect: to 
which end any world, howsoever devised and constructed, 
would have served in a manner at least equally efficient. 
But neither this extremely Spartan, nor that ingenious 

* This theory is sometimes called Optimism. — Transl. note. 



LEIBNITZ. 337 

and diplomatic, reply can avail to satisfy philosophy or the 
feelings. With admiration we observe, from a recently 
published dogmatic work composed by Leibnitz,* how 
thorough and lucid were his views of religion and a scheme 
of faith. Yet the loftiest and profoundest idea discoverable 
throughout his fragmentary knowledge, (which Lessing, 
with such correct feeling rendered especially prominent,) is 
the sentiment of an ever-increasing perfectibility of the 
world in a metaphysical sense, or the advancing glorification 
of God in the eternal progress of his creatures from one 
degree of brightness to a higher. This idea, in reference to 
improvement in metaphysical knowledge, forms the actual 
living centre of Christian Eevelation, just as the doctrine of 
the Fall constituted the principal mystery of the Mosaic 
Dispensation. Of the small number of those philosophers 
who have elevated their contemplation to the recognition and 
acknowledgment of Revelation, the majority have stopped 
short at Mosaic tradition, whose doctrine of the Eall un- 
assisted human reason would never have fathomed had not 
the most remote antiquity been familiar with it, from the 
traditions of a primeval world. This doctrine, although it is 
the very foundation and beginning of all true knowledge, 
derives its genuine importance and significancy from the 
other Idea, to which Reason is enabled to conceive and 
imagine something analogous, according to the . indefinite 
notion of a progressive perfection, which is so frequently 
misapplied in the affairs of ordinary practical life. But this 
idea does not attain perfect metaphysical clearness without 
the aid of the Christian Revelation, since that alone can 
give us a clear insight and conviction of the perfect and 
illustrious glory of creation as consequent t)'n the Eall. 
Leibnitz may rather be supposed to have constructed this 
idea on mathematical principles than to have prosecuted 
and exhausted it in all its religious profundity. The more 
distinctly intelligible his plan of a peculiar Christian philo- 
sophy becomes, the more is it to be lamented that his design 
remained unfinished, and that his enlightened mind did not 

* Leibnitzen's System der Theologie, nach dem manuscripte von Han- 
nover (den lateinischen text zur seite) ins Deutsche iibersetzt von Dr. 
Ras8 und Dr. Weis, ko. Dritte verinehrte Auflag-e ; Mainz, 1825. 

Z 



338 ' LEIBNITZ. 

rise above the abstract conceptions and associations of his 
age to the vital knowlege of Truth. 

The Leibnitzian notions respecting Space and Time, more 
particularly prove how completely the views of a loftier 
philosophy were lost sight of in his day, or at least how 
essentially they differed from the theories then prevalent. 
The older philosophy recognized Space to be the infinite 
theatre of God's glory, and Time the living pulsation of 
eternal Love : holding both, according to their original and 
not yet perverted nature, to constitute the vital organs of 
Divine creativeness — the expanding, all-embracing wings of 
the Almighty's manifestations. Even the natural man, 
however sensuous, is lost in endless amazement, and feels 
himself directly transported to the regions of Divinity on 
contemplating the idea of space, vast and immeasureable, 
yet capable of being comprehended in imagination. An in- 
finite depth opens up to his inward view, like the rich ful- 
ness of life itself, when from the present moment he looks 
back at the past, and then forward into the vista of future 
years. In Space and Time, Leibnitz however, beheld nothing 
more than the order and arrangement of things co-existing 
or consecutive. After this manner, meaningless and inani- 
mate conceptions gradually supplanted living right feelings 
in all that is most calculated to lift man above the world of 
sense. His philosophy became a prevalent sect in the 
Schools of Germany through the instrumentality of Wolf : 
this observation will suffice to characterize it. A sect bear- 
ing upon active life is distinguished by the direction it 
takes and the influence it exercises. But when immured 
within the restricted confines of the Schools, the spirit of sect 
is wont to manifest itself much after the same fashion in all 
ages : continuing to be a dead formula, wdiether Aristotle or 
Descartes, Leibnitz or Kant, be the master who lends the 
impress of a name to stamp conceptions that were truly 
living thoughts in the mind of their discoverer, but now 
are only passed about as lifeless forms. Meanwhile, Ger- 
many was at least saved from the still more pernicious sec- 
tarian spirit of atheistic philosophy of the senses, which is 
so destructive of life in the soul : nor was the pedantry of 
formulas of any long existence. Though for the most part 
composing in Latin or French, Leibnitz had nevertheless 



WOUIAN PHILOSOPHY. 339 

imparted a new impulse to the scientific study of the history 
and language of Germany; Wolf, too, gave meritorious 
encouragement to the cultivation of the language by his 
own example. He was soon followed by others, who, 
though trained in the school of Wolfian philosophy, were 
yet in a certain measure independent thinkers. These, then, 
aided by some few leading poets, were the first to raise the 
German language from the barbarism into which it had 
sunk, until Klopstock founded a new era about the middle 
of the eighteenth century, and became the actual father of 
the present German literature. 

Before I proceed to Klopstock, it is necessary to take a 
brief retrospective glance at the interval between old and 
new German literature. It is true, the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries contributed but a limited number of dis- 
tinguished writers who employed the German language as 
the channel of their thoughts, but they were so much the 
more remarkable and extraordinary. It has already been 
shewn how mediaeval chivalrous poetry and art fell into obli- 
vion during the disputes of the sixteenth century, whilst 
during the civil wars of that and the succeeding age, the 
very language itself became demoralized. There was yet 
one remedy for this widely-spreading disorder, and a set-off 
against the loss of the older treasures of language, in the 
German version of the Bible. It is an established fact 
that all thorough philological critics consider this trans- 
lation as the normal text and standard of High- German 
classic expression, and that not Klopstock alone, but many 
more authors of the first celebrity have modelled their style 
directly in this mould, and have drawn from this source. 
It is remarkable that no other modern tongue has adopted 
so many Biblical terms and phrases, and introduced them 
into common language. My own opinion quite coincides 
with that of the critics who hold this circumstance to be 
most felicitous, to which I think I am justified in ascribing 
some portion of that continuous intellectual energy, life, and 
simplicity, which preeminently characterize the diction of 
our most distinguished German writers. Whatsoever either 
catholic or protestant scholars may discover to be censurable 
in Luther's version, is really restricted to individual pas- 
sages, which he has interpreted according to the spirit of his 



340 LUTIIEE. 

teaching in a manner differing from that of the earlier doctors 
of the church, or in certain points of history, physics, or 
geography, in which he was without the necessary helps. 
But the more that attempts have been multiplied, within the 
last thirty years, to make the Bible subsidiary to the so- 
called friends of enlightenment by means of rational and ex- 
planatory translations, an attempt that has found favour 
even with professed Catholics, the more has the excellence of 
the old- German version been acknowledged by those who 
have abandoned this fashionable folly. Strictly speaking, 
the work is not Luther's alone, having originated, as is well 
known, in a selection of the best from among several extant 
versions, and he was assisted in his explanations by various 
learned friends, more especially by Melancthon. Never- 
theless, his merit is incontestable on the score of energetic 
language, peculiar genius, and forcible German expression. 
His original writings are replete with eloquence rarely 
equalled in the annals of any nation for centuries. As may 
be expected, this eloquence is marked by all those qualities 
which are excusable in revolutionary times. But this force 
of revolutionary eloquence so peculiar to Luther is not 
confined to his half-political works which pointedly bear on 
public life: as, for instance, his "Address to the German 
Nobility ;" but in all the works he has left behind him it is 
sufficiently perceptible : in almost all of them the mighty 
struggle going on within him is laid bare to observation. 
There are, as it were, two worlds contending with each other 
for the soul of this truly great man so richly endowed by 
God and nature. His writings uniformly exhibit the spec- 
tacle of a contest between light and darkness ; between a 
firm and immovable faith, and the fierceness of his own 
unsubdued passion ; in a word, between God and himself. 
Of the choice he made between these diverging paths, 
of the use to which he applied his wonderful faculties, 
opinion must still vary as much as ever. As regards my 
personal judgment in the matter, I need scarcely say that 
his writings, like his life, produce but one impression, namely, 
the sympathy usually felt when a commanding and sublime 
intellect is led astray by over-confidence in its own strength. 
His power and greatness of mind, irrespective of their appli- 
cation and development, seem to me never to have been 



LUTHER. 341 

fully appreciated by any of his modern adherents and 
admirers. His coadjutors consisted, for the most, of merely 
learned, moderate, .enlightened men of the ordinary stamp. 
He it was to whose modelling hands the destiny of those 
times, whether for good or for evil, was, humanly speaking, 
committed : for he was the man who decided everything in 
his age and nation. 

Luther was essentially a popular author. No other 
country in modern Europe has possessed so many remark- 
able, comprehensive, powerful, and intellectually important 
popular writers as Germany. How inferior soever the 
higher classes of Germany may have been during some ages 
to those of other lands, or how late soever they may have 
attained to a fair standard of refinement : in no other coun- 
try did the people, as a whole, evince so great a degree of 
general mental power from the earliest times on record, or 
so much of that natural energy which lies in the depths of 
humanity. It is an old saying that the power of kings is of 
Divine institution ; it is likewise an observation incidental 
to all time that the voice of the people is the voice of God. 
Both, if rightly understood, are perfectly true. Woe to 
them who would misinterpret or confound this voice of God ! 
Compassion is due to those who, devoted to an idle, lifeless, 
political system, fancy they can lead the people according to 
their own selfish and sordid maxims ; the people, more keenly 
alive to the real nature of their projects than is commonly 
supposed, are not easily thus misled. But they are guilty 
of a most heinous offence who wantonly, and for destructive 
purposes, venture to set in motion that natural popular 
energy, in its origin so worthy of respect and honour: a power 
which will never cease to be terrible in its operations when- 
ever it is diverted from its only legitimate object —faithful 
obedience to the will of God. And narrow must be the 
judgment of those who ignore the existence of this energy, 
because they cannot estimate it aright, or who think it cau 
be destroyed where it has endured from the beginning 
throughout ages, as in Germany, simply because, like many 
other hidden faculties of nature, it is manifested only on 
rare occasions. 

.Not only did religion furnish scope and opportunity to 



342 HANS SACHS. 

exercise the talents of Luther and other popular writers of 
Protestant Germany, but even poetry and philosophy 
engaged their attention. In illustration of my remark, I 
will only select from a host of names two of the most dis- 
tinguished : the celebrated Meister-S'dnger of Niirnberg, and 
the well-known Christian thinker and seer, w r ho in the time 
of the Thirty Years' war passed under the name of the 
"Teutonic Philosopher," in Protestant countries and the 
north of Europe generally. 

Germany is exceedingly rich in popular lays and poems. 
The poetry is generally of two kinds : consisting partly of 
songs, scattered fragmentary relics of the lost poetry of early 
heroic chivalry, of which the tradition has been interrupted 
by revolutions or supplanted by the modern economy of civil 
life. Partly, its character is of a rougher external cast, such 
as is adapted to the tastes of a guild or craft, though not 
destitute of inventive spirit : and this constitutes the peculiar 
characteristic of later German popular poetry. In minstrelsy, 
as in daily life, Hans Sachs* of Niirnberg was a working 
man. He was not only the most copious but also the most 
forcible in his own style of art, particularly witty, and pos- 
sessed of strong common sense : compared with early authors 
in the literature of other countries, he is more inventive than 
Chaucer, richer than.Marot, and more poetical than either. 
As regards his diction, the rich mine of treasure he has 
bequeathed can hardly be said to have been yet made the 
most of. 

The same may be said of Jacob Bcehmen,f the " Teutonic 
philosopher," commonly so ill-treated at the hands of littera- 
teurs. Indeed, they frankly profess to be equally ignorant of 
his merits and demerits ; but they are likewise in the dark 
respecting the external relations of the man, his connection 
with his age, the circumstances attending the dissemination 

* Born in 1494 at Niirnberg. Having- completed his apprenticeship, 
he set up as a shoemaker. He is distinguished for wit, grace, and inven- 
tive genius. Luther is the theme of one of his compositions. 

f A noted mystic, founder of the sect of Behmenists, born at Gorlitz, 
in Lusatia, 1575, and, like Hans Sachs,a shoemaker by trade. His works 
were translated into English by the Rev. Win. Law, and published with a 
Lite in 4 vols. 4to. Lond. 1764-81. 



JACOB BCEHMEH". 318 

of his own opinions, and others like thein. I have previously 
alluded to the inconsistency involved in a superficial diffu- 
sion of lifeless formulas among the learned and educated, 
and throughout literature in general, whilst genuine profound 
philosophy is consigned to the uncertain care of secret asso- 
ciations or of individuals, or to enthusiasts from among the 
lower orders. Such, however, was the case at that time both 
in Protestant Germany and in England. Jacob Bcehmen was 
regarded as a visionary. But even if it were satisfactorily 
established that imagination had a greater share in his lucu- 
brations than a scientific intellect, it must at least be con- 
ceded that the faculty of fancy resident in this singular 
genius was richly endowed and enlightened. If, on that 
account, he is to be regarded simply as a poet, and compared 
with other Christian bards who have attempted to depict 
supernatural themes, Milton, Klopstock, Dante, he must be 
allowed to have all but surpassed them in imaginative fulness 
and depth of feeling, and to be scarcely their inferior in point 
of individual passages of poetic beauty and expression. The 
springs of Nature are accessible to every gentle pious heart, 
for her inmost being is closely connected with the life-stream 
of the human soul : and perhaps much is clear and transpa- 
rent to child-like vision that is clouded, as with a sevenfold 
covering, when sought to be viewed through the telescopes 
and artistic contrivances of the scientific inquirer. For 
viewing nature there is, too, a peculiar revelation contained 
in the immediate emotions of internal life. After long 
wearisome research into matters appertaining to Divine 
knowledge, our own times are returning more and more to 
this lucid simplicity of faith. Much in the same way, philo- 
sophy will have to revert, in our day, to those primary 
sources of inner contemplation, and of natural faculties 
neither disturbed nor misled by civilization, but vigorous and 
piercing, when considering not, indeed, the Creator himself, 
but the foremost glory of his creation — Man. Although 
the highest mental illumination, with many elevating opera- 
tions of grace, will be always wanting to the Christian phi- 
losopher who is not within the pale of the Church, yet 
we must take into consideration whether his separation from 
it proceeds from a perverse tendency of his own mind, or 



344 opitz. 

is occasioned only by the accident of his "birth. Whatever 
deficiencies or philosophical errors, arising in some measure 
from misconception, may be observable in the doctrines of 
Jacob Boehmen, the historian of the German language must 
not omit his name, since few authors of his time have better 
displayed its resources. In addition to great intellectual 
wealth, his style is marked by pliant vigour and copious 
originality, that ceased to be manifest, in the same degree, 
on the termination of the Thirty Tears' war, and that are 
nowhere found now that artistic refinement, external smooth- 
ness, and imitation of foreign forms of expression, have 
changed the character of our language. 

It was about the same period of the Thirty Tears' war, so 
destructive in its later effects, yet so quickening to mental 
energy while it raged, that Opitz, of Silesia, explored a new 
path in German culture, poetry, and language, in which he 
had numerous followers. He more immediately attached 
himself to the genius of the Dutch who, at that time, pos- 
sessed a Hugo Grotius, and were not only the most learned 
and enlightened of all Protestant States, but had also made 
considerable progress in poetic pursuits, and were in posses- 
sion of native tragedies, modelled after the antique, long 
prior to the celebrated tragic poets of France in the reign of 
Louis XIV. The real merits of Opitz, however, do not con- 
sist in his gleanings from foreign nations, such as the Dutch, 
or the pastoral romances of the Spaniards ; nor were his dra- 
matic efforts in free translation or imitation from the Greek 
or Italian stage crowned with any signal success. Even in 
the case of his own lyrical, mixed, and didactic verse, to be 
correctly judged, we should consider what he was fitted to 
become by nature, and what he desired and meant to convey, 
rather than what he actually produced. He is wont to be 
styled the Father of German poetry ; but it seems to me that 
since Klopstock's day very few of his ungrateful children 
have been eager to prove their relationship. He was specially 
calculated to excel in heroic poetry. This branch he intended 
to cultivate in reference to German nationality. However, 
tossed to and fro in the turmoil of those restless times, he 
died before he had time to accomplish his object. No sus- 
ceptible nature will fail to perceive in his poetry that 



THE SILESIAN SCHOOL OF POETRY. 345 

sublimity of thought and emotion, those distinctive features 
of the epic bard. Whilst his language is marked by unaf- 
fected simplicity, coupled with dignified vigour, seldom if 
ever approached by any of his successors, in my opinion ; on 
this score I would incline to pronounce him superior to Klop- 
stock who, in his own age, incomparably distanced all com- 
petitors. 

The Silesian school could at this time boast of several 
other poets, of whom I will now only mention Flemming, 
whose verse, glowing with rich oriental colouring, celebrates 
passages of private friendship, passion, and love, and records 
incidents of travel in the interior of Russia, then little 
known, and a sojourn in Persia: his versification is less smooth 
than that of Opitz. It was doubtless an unfavourable cir- 
cumstance that these poets were either actually not Germans, 
in the broad acceptation of the word, being merely Silesian 
provincial poets, or at any rate were looked upon in that 
light. The more the energy of the German nation became 
broken, since that unhappy civil war, whose flames, fed by 
the sympathy of half Europe and the wiles of foreign 
policy, raged throughout Germany in devastating fury for a 
period extending over thirty years — and after the still more 
hapless peace of 1648, so unfavourable to the general deve- 
lopment, — the more was poetry paralyzed, till it eventually 
declined to the level of mere occasional verse, a degenerate 
species of artificial display, as is nearly always the case when 
poetry is destitute of a proper aim and has lost its living 
native force. This spurious taste was introduced by Hoff- 
manswaldau, and brought into more general notice by the 
talents of Lohenstein. The interval from 1648 to the middle 
of the eighteenth century was the actual epoch of barbarism, 
a sort of interregnum and chaotic intermediate condition of 
German literature, during which the language itself, fluctu- 
ating between a would-be French jargon and confused Ger- 
man, was at once over-refined and vulgar. Politically, too, 
Germany was in a most ignominious and infelicitous state in 
the age directly succeeding the peace of Westphalia. Her 
power began to revive towards the beginning of the eighteenth 
century. Austria was once more reinstated in her brilliant 
and extensive supremacy, many of the leading European 
thrones were occupied by scions of German princely houses, 



346 LYRIC POETS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTUET. 

whilst in one instance* ducal honours were elevated to a 
regal title. All this necessarily operated beneficially, though 
gradually, on genius, civilization, and language. Many 
princes were induced, if only from motives of State policy, 
to promote science. At first, progress was slow, for numerous 
were the obstacles, and art as well as language had strayed 
far from the right path. The first lyric poets of the eigh- 
teenth century who excelled in sentiment and diction were, 
like their predecessors in the seventeenth, mostly restricted 
in subject to a similar species of courtly, festive, occasional 
pieces. Those whose expression evinced a nicer and more 
elaborate degree of care, for instance Hagedorn, and after 
him Utz, too frequently contented themselves with imitating 
the French or English muse, nor, indeed, unsuccessfully ; they 
rarely expressed themselves in poems of original invention, 
and in songs of felt emotion. Haller and Gleim, most justly 
entitled to the appellation of poets, the one for his exalted 
flight, the other for his facile copiousness, exhibit careless- 
ness, not to say decided incorrectness of expression. Never- 
theless, their claims to consideration appear great when their 
services, as regards culture of the language, are contrasted 
with the barbarism into which it had sunk. And their merit 
appears greater when the unfavourable circumstances and 
relations of the times are taken into consideration. Some of 
these first revivers of the language and poetry of Germany 
died young : Kleist, for instance, to whom, perhaps, the palm 
of pre-eminence ought to be awarded; so also Kronegk and 
Elias Schlegel. Others engaged in the duties of active life, 
removed to foreign lands, or were otherwise dispersed. A 
centre of union was wanting, which was generally, but in 
vain, looked for in the person of Frederick II. It has been 
the fashion of late to vindicate his conduct by arguing that 
the German language and learning had fallen so low that an 
intellectual monarch may be readily pardoned for turning 
away from the contemplation of both with disgust and con- 
tempt. This statement is not altogether correct : it is diffi- 
cult to say what might not have been effected in favour of 
German intellectual culture by a sovereign whose contem- 

* The ducal house of Brandenburg- was raised to monarchy in the per- 
son of Frederick I. in the year 1701. — Transl. note. 



"FREDERICK THE GEEAT. 347 

poraries wereK]opstock,"Winckelmann, Kant, Lessing, with 
many other highly distinguished men, some of them born in 
his own dominions, and all devoted to science and art ! Was 
any reign ever graced with such a galaxy of brilliant intellect, 
eminently adapted to form the nucleus of a learned society — 
and of what stamp were the foreigners that monopolized the 
king's favour, with the sole exception of Yoltaire ? A Mau- 
pertuis, a La M etrie, by no means the most distinguished 
names in French literature. Klopstock can hardly be blamed 
when, with a self-respect honourable to his feelings, he con- 
strued the slight put upon his fellow-countrymen into a per- 
sonal insult. This emotion, keenly felt, was often insinu- 
ated, very much to the king's disadvantage, in a comparison 
ingeniously instituted between the monarch and Caesar, in 
whose time more Greek, good or bad, was spoken or written 
at Koine, than French in Germany during the eighteenth 
century. The Latin tongue, at that period, was as deficient 
in quantity and quality of classical compositions, with the 
exception of a few esteemed memorials of the past, as was 
modern German literature prior to 1750. And yet Caesar 
counted it worth while to devote his most careful attention 
to the language, nay, did not disdain personally to cultivate 
and instruct in it. By this means he became the foremost 
orator of his day, and one of the best authors in the lan- 
guage : a distinction to which no one has ever yet attained 
in a foreign tongue. Upon the whole, it was perhaps quite 
as well that the then favourite idea of establishing a learned 
society was not carried into execution. Individual develop- 
ment might, indeed, have been a gainer, but German litera- 
ture in the aggregate would probably have been fettered and 
limited, and savoured of provincial taste instead of being 
thoroughly German. A more speedy development would 
have been too dearly purchased at the expense of copiousness 
and freedom, attributes that now invest it with peculiar sig- 
nificancy and value. But the grounds on which the excul- 
pation of Frederick II. rests are far from being substantially 
correct. If kings were on all occasions to defer the promo- 
tion of science until the ranks of literature are duly filled 
up and have become sufficiently famous through other means, 
or perchance have lost the first freshness of youthful vigour, 
nothing would remain to be done but to gather together a 



348 KLOPSTOCK.. 

select band of the most inoffensive and disabled of their 
number, and place them in a kind of hospital, styled — 
Academy of Science. Bat if the genius of a nation is really 
intended to be formed and directed, the budding talents of 
youthful intellect should have free scope granted them, 
together with a sufficiency of auxiliary means of development, 
whilst especial directions ought to be given to bear upon 
those points likely to promote the efficiency of national pro- 
gress, Klopstock' s sensitiveness may be pardoned the rather 
that he himself was undoubtedly well calculated to impart a 
salutary influence, a fresh tone, not to poetry alone, but to 
every department of literature. It was competent to his 
comprehensive spirit to have effected an amount of manifold 
good in Germany, corresponding to the evil perpetrated by 
Yoltaire in Prance, had he but been furnished with fitting 
opportunity, power, and assistance. 

Klopstock at that time stood solitary and alone in the 
German world with his lofty national feeling, in which few 
sympathized, and which none rightly understood. His only 
alternative, therefore, was to enunciate it in his poetry. The 
Messiah in reality inaugurates a higher tone in modern 
German literature : so extraordinary and important in its 
results is its merit, especially in language and expression ; 
though this poem is mostly admired in name only by the 
great majority of the public, never having vitally influenced 
sentiment or feeling. Its general plan,. suffers, more than 
usual, from the difficulties that beset works of this nature, 
and which have never yet been satisfactorily overcome. As 
a poet, Klopstock is, on the whole, most successful in his 
elegiac passages. He depicts in a masterly manner each 
gradation, combination, and depth of elegiac feeling : he car- 
ries sympathy along with him, how far soever he may be led 
by the current of his emotions. He is even enabled to 
enlist warm sympathetic interest in favour of Abbadona's 
fate, one of the fallen spirits. There is, however, yet ano- 
ther element in his poetry, in addition to elegiac feeling, 
which has a disturbing effect ; I mean his rhetorical art, 
which occasionally leads him to exaggerate : hence his prose 
often betrays forced curtness, isolated maxims and turns of 
thought, so epigrammatic as to be unintelligible : whilst his 
epic verse on the other hand, runs into the opposite extreme of 



KLOPSTOCK. 349 

ingeniouslong- winded harangue. The great prominence given 
to speeches in Virgil and Milton, is carried considerably fur- 
ther in the Messiah. If we concede to the muse that celestial 
personages may adopt human, nay even German expression, 
it will yet be difficult for any one to persuade himself of 
the fact that spiritual natures like theirs, are in the habit of 
interchanging such prolix discourses. 

The immense discrepancy existing between the first and 
second half of the Messiah, is pretty clear proof that both 
the nation and the poet himself were not at all satisfied with 
the general results of the undertaking. 

Klopstock entertained lofty conceptions of a new, and 
especially German, poetic school. With the genius of a 
master he at once proceeded to sketch the extreme points 
necessary to the success of so mighty a project, combining in 
his Messiah, on the one hand Christianity, on the other 
northern mythology and primordial German annals, and 
these he was desirous of uniting as the two chief elements 
of all modern European culture and poesy. Danish antiqua- 
ries and poets were then beginning to elucidate and revive 
the mythology and Edda of the north. In this meritorious 
design Klopstock participated : only it can hardly be sup- 
posed that a few stray lyrics and fragmentary allusions 
would suffice to introduce into the realms of living poetry 
myths hitherto confined to the students of northern litera- 
ture. -Works representing the whole system in copious de- 
tail were alone able to accomplish this, and so the poets of 
Denmark themselves seemed to feel. 

The remarks previously made in reference to his truth and 
manifold variety of elegiac feeling, as well as the condemna- 
tion of his rhetorical acuteness, equally apply to Klopstock' s 
Hermanni, his next greatest achievement. As a dramatic 
poem, it w^as certainly composed for a future possible stage, 
more than the existing one, which, at that time and even 
later, seemed adapted to any species of recreation, purpose, 
or effort, rather than poetry. He had enunciated only the 
extreme points of new German poetry : all that lay between 
Christianity and northern mythology, all that issued from the 
very union of the two, was omitted. The whole of the mid- 
dle ages, some twelve centuries from Attila down to the 
Peace of "Westphalia, if this may be regarded as the bo mi- 



350 WIELAND AND GESSNER. 

dary-line, where Poetry ceases in History, were utterly 
ignored. That region, then, was wanting, which has in all 
instances approved itself most favourable to the interests of 
modern poetry, and in which it is well for it to reside, at 
least for a season, if it would aspire to historical or national 
importance. This great gap which Klopstock had left, 
was, in some measure, filled up, at the commencement, 
by the exertions of two important names, — Bodmer, as a 
scholar, Wieland as a poet. Bodmer was partial to ro- 
mantic chivalrous song, and he was the first to restore the 
o_den relics of this department of G-erman literature : yet 
his method was not calculated to be generally popular at the 
first. The muse of "Wieland addressed herself exclusively to 
the romantic element, which Klopstock had not cultivated 
at all. It must be confessed that historico-romantic verse, 
after the manner of Tasso, though not exactly bearing upon 
the period of the Crusades, yet selected from the rich poeti- 
cal store-house of mediaeval times generally, would have 
contributed more to effect what was proposed than a poem 
like Oberon, almost devoid of historical foundation, and 
serving as a mere play of the imagination, in Ariosto's 
fashion. But despite of all its imperfections and too mo- 
dern admixtures, this incitement to romantic feeling was at 
that time worthy of all praise. It is a matter of regret 
that the bard so soon abandoned the joyous field of olden 
chivalric poetry, and indeed poetry as a whole. The gravest 
objection to be urged against the creator of Oberon is that 
when he might have become the German Ariosto, or at 
least the rival of his Italian brother- minstrel, he preferred 
remaining the imitator of Crebillon in prose. And yet it is 
very evident from his subsequent performances, even in 
point of language and expression, that he was never so feli- 
citous as in compositions such as Oberon, of itself far more 
calculated to perpetuate his name to posterity than all his 
Greek romances. 

Of the remaining poets who flourished in the first gene- 
ration, Gessner is the most original. His verse, keeping 
aloof from all positive local truth, and at the same time 
destitute of any decided fiction or myth, wanders in the 
region of vague uncertainty, and on that account soon grows 
monotonous and unreal. His language is extremely meri- 



GEB3IAK" VEESlflCATIOB". 351 

torious ; but here too, his singular avoidance both of rhyme 
and metre, in the kind of poetry he adopted, discovers a ten- 
dency to indefinite shapelessness. 

Klopstock's precept and example in one respect, operated 
almost unfavourably on the German language. In itself it 
was not censurable in him to practise and apply the syllabic 
quantity of the ancients. In order to rescue an idiom from a 
state of total disorder, severe, artistic, and even foreign 
forms may be salutary enough, if only to escape the beaten 
track of apathetic negligence by one determined violent 
effort. Besides,the ancient hexameter measure in some degree 
became familiar to the Grerman ear, and, externally, acclima- 
tized, although close inspection might prove that the pre- 
sence of a foreign element is always more or less distasteful 
to the inward sense. However much the culture of the 
language may be indebted to borrowed forms, as a beneficial 
practice, yet the choice of a strange syllabic measure is not 
to be recommended in the composition of a genuine national 
epic, of which the first condition is that the verse should be 
agreeable and easy to the ear as well as to the understanding, 
and couched in diction that instinctively, as it were, falls 
into melody. There is this additional difficulty in the adop- 
tion of hexameter verse, that if treated with relaxed strict- 
ness, those, for whose especial enjoyment it was intended, 
complain: whilst rigorous adherence to rhythmical laws can 
hardly be maintained in a protracted form without, in some 
degree, sacrificing sense, and occasionally expression, to sound. 
It may be said that Klopstock's Messiah was, from the 
nature of its subject, not adapted to the general taste, but 
limited to a certain class of readers ; and that his choice of 
the measure is, accordingly, more excusable if not actually 
justifiable. 

It was contrary to the nature and genius of the language 
for the poet to indulge his prejudice so far as to detest and 
even wish to banish rhyme : but this latter he could not 
effect. Eor it had become a custom of ten centuries' stand- 
ing — so far back does the introduction of rhyme into High- 
German date — and it was no light task to eradicate what 
long practice had deeply rooted in the entire structure of 
the language. Neither is it mere custom : rhyme being asso- 
ciated with the original essence of German idiom. Klop- 



352 GERMAN VERSIFICATION. 

stock fancied that his country's oldest poems and songs were 
only rhythmical, not rhymed. This supposition is unfounded ; 
though the species of rhyme they contain is not exactly 
analogous to our own method of closing the verse with feet 
of similar sound. Their less perfect but still very regular 
rhymes, occurring in emphatic syllables or words, or in the 
middle or even the commencement of the line, such as pre- 
vail in Icelandic and old Scandinavian song, sometimes 
termed Alliteration, were common to the Germanic dia- 
lects. All the ancient Saxon verse, both of English and 
German composition, is thus framed. The transition from 
this method to . complete rhyme, became very easy. It 
need not, therefore, surprise us to find all German dialects 
adopting it, in the earliest stages of development. It is con- 
nected with the still valid fundamental law of German pro- 
nunciation and language. This law, recognized by the whole 
body of critics, insists on emphasis or stress being laid on 
important, especially root, syllables : a stress increasing in 
the ratio of their significance and importance. In a word, 
we do not measure but weigh our syllables. "We do not 
accentuate for the convenience of the hearer, but, engrossed 
in the word itself, we at once pick out the significant radical 
tones, and dwelling upon them as essentials, we compara- 
tively disregard fugitive incidental syllables. It is on this 
principle, of suiting the action to the nature of the syllable, 
that the real beauty of German pronunciation, even ordina- 
rily, depends, as also the euphony of German songs and 
poems. It follows, then, that we have no longs or shorts, as 
the ancients had : our significant syllables being marked by 
a countless variety of gradations both in import and weight. 
This is an insurmountable obstacle, and constitutes the 
actual reason why the application of ancient rhythmical 
principles to our tongue can never be more than approxi- 
mate : to a fuller equality of successful results a total change 
in the language, nay the pronunciation, would be indispensa- 
ble. But this fundamental law of our idiom in a peculiar 
manner paves the way for rhyme. To languages that are 
quite destitute of rhythm, like the Trench, rhyme is abso- 
lutely necessary, from the very want of a sensible limitation, 
separation, and connexion of the verse. In strongly accen- 
tuated languages such as the Italian and Spanish, rhyme 



GEEMAN VERSIFICATION. 853 

readily assumes the shape of a mere musical play of sylla- 
bles and words. In the German tongue, which takes its 
rise somewhat nearer the original source, and is not unrhyth- 
mical, the fundamental law of pronunciation enjoining em- 
phasis on important and root syllables, led to observation 
and appreciation of the accordant tones in them, and even- 
tually to rhyme itself. In this peculiar manner did the 
German language come into possession of rhyme, and 
though neither the Trench, the Italian, nor the Spanish 
mode is altogether applicable to our tongue, yet rhyme 
itself is agreeable to its nature, and will never be discarded 
so long as it continues to be a language. The real essence 
of German versification consists in relinquishing all foreign 
syllabic measures — both the old rhythmical and the ingenious 
romantic rhymes, as exercises merely preparatory to a more 
pliant condition of culture, useful enough in their time — 
and reverting to the simple forms of German verse. These 
native forms exist not alone in fragmentary popular mea- 
sures, nor in imitations of the old German standards found 
in the " Niebelungen," any more than in the usual measures 
adopted by the favourite poets of the eighteenth century. 
On the contrary, they must proceed from the inner consti- 
tution of our language as it is now developed, and be adapted 
to the exigencies of lyric or epic poetry, as the case may be, 
in various, manifold, yet simple methods, in conformity with 
the highest possible standard of excellence : so also with 
regard to our drama which, from its thoroughly lyrical ten- 
dency, almost imperatively demands the aid of rhyme. 

But to return to the, historical thread of our remarks, the 
earlier epoch of Klopstockand Wieland. In referring to his 
own time, it was an exceedingly laudable endeavour on the 
part of Wieland to perpetuate in German, poetry the plan 
of rhyme, such as prevailed in joyous Provencal, and in the 
ancient chivalric and love songs, and to protect it from the 
blind zeal of a host of bards to whom Klopstock gave 
offence without intending it. 

Being fond of philological inquiry, and desirous of 
entering on a career of his own, Wieland was every now 
and then led into partiality and paradox. Adelung nar- 
rowly escaped falling into a similar error. With so great a 
number of preliminary compilations made by others in the 

2 A 



354 ADELUNG AND GOTTSCHED. 

domains of philology before him, more might reasonably 
have been expected at Adelung's hands, when his labours 
professed to embrace the vast field of German literature, in 
assigning to each individual expression its exact equivalent. 
Yet, notwithstanding all the shortcomings and errors that 
the researches of recent times have proved against him, his 
efforts to extend an improved acquaintance with the genius 
of the language generally were meritorious as a beginning 
and in connexion with the times in which he lived. His chief 
prejudice lay in limiting the purity of the high-German idiom 
to the narrow confines of the old Margravate of Messia, # and 
to a brief period of excelling taste which he extolled in glow- 
ing terms as the happy, though short-lived, golden age of 
German literature. A striking inconsistency in his argu- 
ment is betrayed in the antipathy and injustice with which 
he treats the leading author of that very time, Klopstoek, 
incomparably its brightest ornament : and whose eminent 
services as a poet, a thorough master of the language, and a 
profound critic, in spite of occasional mistakes, constitute 
him an authority, as regards insight into the genius of the 
German tongue, not a whit inferior to Adelung himself. 

How relative is the idea of a Golden Age, at least as 
far as our literature is concerned ! The disposition is 
always to put it in the past, as is confirmed by the example 
of a writer belonging to a period so enviable and happy. 
In one of his poems Gottsched declares the happy Golden 
Age to have been that of Frederick, the first King of 
Prussia. The writers of that time— supposed to stand 
in the same classic relations to the literature of Ger- 
many as Virgil did to that of Rome, Corneille and Racine 
to that of France — are more especially Besser, Henkirch, 
and Pietsch. These names, long consigned to oblivion, 
were perhaps in their own day scarcely so popular as Gott- 
sched's eulogium might lead one to infer. However, he was 
himself so fully convinced that in them the human intellect 
attained its culminating point, and German poetry its highest 
glory, as to fancy that the age was on the wane and that some 

* A district of Saxony, bounded on the east and south by the " Schan- 
daner " chain, on the north and west by a valley of uncommon fertility. 
It is intersected by the Elbe, the Elster, and other important rivers. — 
Transl, Note. 



THE GOLDEN AGE. 355 

slight decline of purity of taste had already become per- 
ceptible. These words were penned in 1751, the very year 
in which the first cantos of the Messiah appeared : a 
composition that, in my estimation, rather introduces, if not 
the Golden Age of excellence, at least a new era in German 
literature. The poets of the first generation who, as I have 
stated above, really contributed to raise the tone of our 
literature, and were partly known to fame previous to Klop- 
stock's day, for the most part only wrote songs and lyrics of 
a mixed species. Compositions such as these, however they 
may tend to embellish a literature possessed of other and 
more solid advantages, cannot possibly form its lasting 
basis. For this purpose some great national work of 
earnest import is required, be it historic or epic poetry, 
which constitutes the most felicitous commencement of 
a national literature. It is true that German writers of 
the first generation, as a whole, devoted careful attention to 
purity of diction, inasmuch as this was demanded, in an 
especial manner, by existing circumstances. But the results 
were far from being uniformly successful ; in confirmation of 
which I need hardly allude to the great discrepancy between 
Klopstock's prose and his poetical expression, or the im 
mense inferiorty of Lessing's earlier productions, which fall 
within that period, to his later style of composition. It is 
evident, then, that even as regards development of language, 
it is difficult to assume any precise privileged period of 
German literature. I would undertake to enumerate works 
composed in the interval from 1750 to 1800, year by year, 
all of them more or less valuable and excellent : but it would 
be impossible to point to any enjoying a total exemption 
from every defect of that kind. On the same principle, very 
popular authors have in all ages furnished abundant examples 
of negligent as well as faulty style. 

There is a much more useful arrangement or division of 
German literature than any which we have had occasion to 
name. If the same be reviewed historically within the 
above-mentioned period, extending from 1750 to 1800, 
an epoch unquestionably very fertile in excellent writers, 
the several generations, so to speak, may be clearly dis- 
tinguished. It is the more important thoroughly to com- 
prehend this distinction, that each separate generation is 



356 MODEEN GEEMAN LITEEATTRE. 

characterized by some peculiar excellence or defect arising 
out of the external relations of the times. This should be 
borne in mind, in order that we may not look for certain 
qualities in an author which are incompatible with contem- 
porary circumstances, or charge him with failings common 
to the age in which he nourished. 

In the first generation I would include those the develop- 
ment of whose genius and early activity ranges from 1750 — 
1770. Poets of the highest repute belonging to this period 
I have already noticed. The limits of these lectures pre- 
clude my mentioning each individual name that enjoyed a 
certain degree of distinction. In reference to our own 
Austria,* I may here state that Denis, a learned Jesuit, 
added to his other useful labours that of introducing a pure 
system of philology, with especial regard to Klopstock's 
severe taste, into his adopted country, the Empire, then 
blooming afresh under the sceptre of Maria Theresa after 
overcoming a thousand perils. Hence the spirit of Klop- 
stock's genius, too soon extinct in the rest of Germany, long 
survived in the Imperial dominions as a standard model of 
German and Parnassian pursuits. 

Of prose writers incidental to this first generation there 
are several philosophers to be duly considered hereafter : for 
instance, Kant, as far as the period of his birth and his early 
literary efforts are concerned ; but especially Lessing and 
Winckelmann. Hamann likewise chronologically belongs to 
this first epoch ; but with his divining depth of thought he 
stands as a literary hermit. His peculiar religious bias, of itself 
strange enough, was rendered still more impervious to his 
contemporaries by the impenetrable obscurity of the figurative 
allusions in which his sibylline leaves and hieroglyphic signs 
were enveloped. It was reserved for subsequent years to 
raise the mystic veil and, in some measure, recognize their 
originality and genius, after the German mind had under- 
gone some discipline and training.t 

* Though Schlegel was born in Hanover, he spent the latter portion of 
his life in Austria : the present series of Lectures having been delivered in 
Vienna. — Transl. Note. 

f J. G. Hamann, a native of Koenigsberg ; his disposition was exceed- 
ingly fickle, after having been successively engaged in theological, legal, 
and political pursuits, he entered upon commerce, which, in its turn, soon 



MODEE^ GEEMAtf LITEEATTJRE. 357 

Authors of this first generation are commonly impressed 
with many features characteristic of the unfavourable con- 
dition of German language and art, as they then existed ; 
and they bear frequent testimony to the arduous struggle 
with internal and external difficulties in which both were 
engaged. His letters, which hare been divulged perhaps 
with too little regard for his memory, disclose the nature of 
the contest as bearing upon Winckelmann, from which his 
first public performances emerge with some degree of success. 
Kant never entirely shook off the effects of this inner con- 
flict, at once tedious, severe, laborious. Lessing's youthful 
attempts, especially the poetical, can only be regarded as a tri- 
bute that even genius is wont to render, in one way or another, 
to the age in which it appears. "With the single exception 
of Klopstock, the poets of that day too frequently transport 
the fancy to the obsolete' period of occasional poems and 
verses written by command. As a poet, Klopstock' s deve- 
lopment was most free and rapid ; yet in his case, too, it is 
doubtful if, in selecting his materials and fixing his plan, he 
would not have avoided many errors for which not even 
the most glorious execution can compensate, had he not been 
compelled to open up a new course for the progress of his 
muse. In other words, if available preliminary labours had 
existed in a similar, or at least kindred, branch of inquiry, 
dating from a period not too remote for present purposes. 
These were some of the injurious consequences which the 
writers of the first generation encountered, simply because 
they were the first to succeed to a most unfavourable con- 
dition of G-erman literature. External disadvantages of 
position, however, whilst they oppress the weak, only serve 
to stimulate strong minds to more powerful exertion. Every 
nerve is then strained to bear upon the object of a lofty 
enthusiasm, which calls forth a life-long energy. In addi- 
tion to Klopstock, "Wmckelniann, and, in a peculiar man- 
ner, Kant, display this peculiar concentration of power. 
Subsequently our literature, particularly our poetry, was 

disgusted him. He then took a fit of travelling-, he visited Berlin, Swit- 
zerland, London, &c, &c. His writings, which mostly reflected the 
strangeness of his genius, were collected by Jacobi, Herder, and Goethe. 
The appellation of " Wizard of the North " was frequently bestowed on 
him. — Transl. Note. 



358 MODEEN GEEMAtf LITEEATURE. 

too much dismembered and dispersed with inconceivable 
levity. Their severity of purpose and their lofty enthusiasm 
constituted the leading minds of the first generation the 
actual founders of modern G-erman literature. In the same 
rank with Klopstock and Lessing, Winckelmann must essen- 
tially be classed, who mainly introduced that taste for the 
beautiful in Art which, perhaps somewhat too exclusively, 
became a predominant characteristic of this literature. Since 
his time, artistic and sesthetical views almost monopolized 
the field of Grerman literary and philosophic criticism, even 
under circumstances rather calculated to call forth the 
exercise of national or religious feeling. 

The great moral aud political commotion, engraven in the 
annals of universal history and customarily designated the 
Revolution, because its more violent throes were felt during 
that period, has indeed roused the intellect of Grermany 
from its aesthetic world of dreams, and sternly pointed to an 
earnest reality of existence in the conflict of Time, as also to 
the still more serious concerns of eternal faith. With diffi- 
culty do the first rays of light find their way through the 
chinks and crannies of revolutionary confusion, and by slow 
degrees pierce the lingering mists of a bygone age. This 
struggle, in our own immediate times, as it shaped its course 
in the domains of intellect, of literature, and of science — 
especially Grerman — is the last great phenomenon, with a 
description of which we intend closing the present series of 
remarks. 



3.59 



LECTURE XVI. 

General Survey. — Epoch of Genial Literature. — 
Direction of Poetry to Nature and the Living 
Eeality of the Present. — German Criticism. — 
Lessing and Herder : Prevalent ^Esthetics. — 
Lesing as a Philosopher : Freedom of Thought 
and the illuminati : the emperor joseph ii. — 
Character of the third Generation : Philosophy of 
Kant. — Goethe and Schiller. — Future Prospects.-^ 

flchte and tleck. eeal character of german 

Literature. — Comprehensive Idea of the Present 
Era. 

The modern literature of Germany is deficient in true 
harmony. It would not perhaps be very difficult to state in 
general terms, in what department this desideratum is to 
be sought, and wherein it can reasonably be expected to 
be found. Eat where would be the advantage in proposing 
a distant goal without at the same time indicating the paths 
that lead to it, together with each seductive devious by-path, 
and every difficulty the pilgrim is likely to encounter even 
when his course is in the right direction ? Previous to at- 
tempting a solution of the problem, it is desirable to com- 
prehend the problem itself in its manifold variety : and if 
we would hope to untie this Gordian knot of our literature, 
we must trace the several threads that combine to produce 
so perplexed and intricate a whole. 

To this purpose the present series of historical remarks is 
meant to be subservient ; as we approach nearer our own 
times we must needs dwell less on individual characteristics 
and more especially restrict our consideration to the collec- 
tive development and dominant genius of literature. The 
time has, perhaps, not yet arrived for a complete history of 
modern German literature. Points here and there will only 
then appear in their true colours when the results shall have 
been more completely developed. Materials are yet wanting 
to render the history of the intellectual culture of Germany 
perfect and complete. 



360 SECOND GENERATION OF GERMAN WRITERS. 

I have already attempted to pourtray the foremost poets 
of the first generation. Of philosophers and prose writers 
ganerally I purpose still to defer the consideration, that I 
may pursue my subject with all possible chronological fide- 
lity : inasmuch as the views of Lessing and Kant, two of 
the most important of this class, did not practically in- 
fluence public opinion till a somewhat later period. 

"When the long feuds between Austria and Prussia had at 
last issued in permanent peace, Germany long enjoyed a 
repose no less favourable to the progress of science and 
mental culture than to the restoration of political and social 
stability. At one time, indeed, this repose was for a moment 
menaced, but the storm passed over, and Germany flourished 
in the enjoyment of peace and energetic power, though she 
was not altogether clearly conscious of the true causes on 
which her happy condition depended. 

The first founders of German literature, as regards purity 
of diction and poetry, whose exertions, partly before, partly 
after Klopstock, tended to the same end, had to contend 
with the most serious obstacles in a much less favourable 
external state of things. Many of these they had over- 
come by dint of great and ever memorable exertions ; they 
had paved the way, and their very misconceptions and defects 
could not fail to be instructive to ingenious successors, ne- 
cessarily serving as a preliminary step to further perfection. 

It need not, then, be a matter of surprise to observe the 
second generation of German poets and writers, whose first 
development for the most part belongs to the period of 
1770, take a bolder flight with infinitely greater facility. 
They reaped the fruits of what had been sown by their 
predecessors. The most distinguished poets of this epoch 
are Goethe, Stolberg, Yoss, and Burger : to these might 
be added the names of others whose verse, distinguished 
by genius, appeared somewhere about this time, though, 
owing to the nature of their composition or other circum- 
stances, they never attained equal celebrity. In addi- 
tion to these genuine poets, there were some who boldly 
assumed genial faculties which they never possessed, and 
thus had well nigh brought into discredit the reputation 
and genius of the age, if it were possible for genius ever to 
suffer from such pretensions. But in order to be convinced 



JACOBI, LAVATER, HERDEE, AND MULLER. 361 

of the real intellectual prosperity of Germany during the 
period in question, it is sufficient to recall the names of 
Jacobi, Lavater, Herder, and Johannes Muller, men whose 
first development and the character of whose writings espe- 
cially belong to this epoch : their fame is not confined to 
Germany, but is spread throughout Europe. In spirit and 
manner, as also in language and style, the authors of this 
second generation differ widely from those of the preceding. 
Their style is full of soul, fire, and animation : it is ingenious, 
enthusiastic and witty : ever original and fresh, and often 
artistic in detail. Still, uniformity of plan, severe strict- 
ness of arrangement, judicious design, are frequently 
wanting in their composition, whilst the care necessary to 
ensure purity and correctness of diction is not always ob- 
served. This applies even to Herder and Johannes Muller, 
the best informed, most versatile and practised writers of 
the age in which they lived. The assertion made by the ad- 
mirers of the first epoch, that purity of language existed, if 
not exclusively, yet in a very high degree, among its writers, 
would almost seem to be justified in fact. The principle 
does not, however, admit of universal application : some 
authors, more especially the poets, Voss, Stolberg, and 
Goethe in many of his works, evince an elegance and pro- 
priety of diction not exceeded by the severe perfection of 
any poet or prose-writer belonging to the former genera- 
tion. The elaborate care of Yoss occasionally induces hard- 
ness and becomes painful to the reader: and though in- 
stances of negligence of expression may be detected in some 
passages of Goethe's lighter productions, his noblest poems 
evince a beauty of language unsurpassed in the annals of 
German literature, blended with an artless grace which 
Klopstock himself could never attain. 

Not only was the language enriched and embellished by 
the genius of these writers and poets who, entering on the 
path traced out by their predecessors, ventured on a bolder 
flight : in individual compositions it was represented in im- 
maculate purity and lovely perfection. Poetry now took a 
new direction. It had previously been divided into two 
sections or parties, according as the poet proposed to take 
Wieland or Klopstock for his model. The verse of the one 
was crowded with muses and graces, loves and roses, 



362 GOETZ VON BERLICHINGEIT. 

amorettes and zephyrs, nymphs, dryads, hamadryads. The 
others sought to catch the echo of olden Bardic song on ice- 
bound regions, or at a bear-hunt amid rocks and savage 
cliffs, or they walked with Eloah through the clouds on 
celestial paths strewn with stars : if ever they descended to 
earth it was amid thunder, lightning, and tempest, like the 
last trump. Between these two extremes of an uniform 
elevation and a luscious half- Greek half-modern effeminacy, 
more recent poets aimed at depicting reality and nature in 
all their force. They sought to unite their verse with the 
reality of the present by direct means, for they felt that in- 
dividual, fragmentary, yet powerful sketches, in the very 
spirit of life, were exactly congenial to the essence of the 
muse. They all exerted themselves to catch the peculiar 
inspiration of Homer as the master-poet of living nature, 
and vied with each other in reproducing him in a Ger- 
man garb. They likewise recalled numerous reminiscences 
of olden German history, art, and song : of course a suf- 
ficiently accurate acquaintance with old- German history 
and mode of thought, with language and art, was not on all 
occasions combined with their endeavours. These were for 
the most part echoes admirable in themselves and beneficial 
in their consequences. Goetz von Berlichingen with the 
Iron Sand* alone became the progenitor of an all but 
countless race of chivalrous mailed knights, who to this day 
maintain old German freedom and noble prowess on the 
stage. However devoid of rule and even of form this work 
was thrown off by the author, not in mere youthful levity but 
seemingly with design, however imperfectly the historical 
features of the age it describes may be delineated, still it re- 
mains a rich poetic picture of permanent value ; more so 
than any other of the poet's youthful productions, in which 
the poetry was attached to the passing hour. 

Upon the whole, perhaps, Poetry was too much diverted 
by this novel direction of her energies from the high 
standard set up by Klopstock : and, gradually becoming 
scattered and isolated, it was drawn too far into the sphere 
of reality, and thus, by direct pressure, forced prematurely 
and too exclusively upon the stage. The happy develop- 

* Translated by H. G. Bohn in his "Standard Library." 



I 

LESSING. 363 

raent and prosperity of the stage would seem in all countries 
to depend on the full maturity of the several processes of 
intermediate culture. The Greek theatre probably derived 
its main excellence from this circumstance. Scarcely can 
success be expected of the stage in any country unless 
literature and poetry, especially the more exalted kind, have 
been previously rendered productive in manifold ways, thus 
laying the foundations of a lofty superstructure of genius 
and art. A happy commencement in reference to the theatre 
mav be said to have been made in Germany at that time, 
but the project was by no means realized,. nor was the state 
of public opinion in entire harmony with it. Lessing's tone 
of criticism incidentally contributed to direct universal at- 
tention to the stage. It is difficult to decide if the spirit of 
his criticism was calculated to operate in a salutary manner 
on the stage of his country, notwithstanding the vast extent 
of his acquirements and his unquestionable sagacity. Erom. 
heavy translations of Corneille or Yoltaire the general taste 
now turned to moral domestic sketches after the manner of 
Diderot : and prose came to be regarded as an essential to 
genuine natural delineation, so that the language, freed 
from all restraint, might thoroughly correspond with the 
formless nature of the contents. This feeling, however, was 
but transitory : Shakspere, -revered by Lessing, continued 
to be the idol of the nation, and popular conceptions of what 
constituted natural representation soon outgrew the standard 
of Diderot and his family sketches. 

As a critic, Lessing was better adapted to throw light 
upon individual points, and particularly to refute and eradi- 
cate deep-seated prejudices than to mark the precise position 
of any work of art, of any single artist, or of any collective 
species, in relation to general culture or the several grada- 
tions of art. His pursuits did not fit him to contemplate or 
admire a work of high perfection with the philosophic re- 
pose of Winckelmann. But this is indispensable to a know- 
ledge, hoth essential and complete, of any distinct species of 
art in reference to its entire history and development. It 
is only in complete works that the essence of an art can be 
fully known, and only by means of calm consideration can 
perfection be recognized : censure of parts of the whole, or of 
imperfect execution, cannot lead to results equally desirable. 



3C4 LESSIFG AND HEEDEE. 

Lessing's criticism turns on the principle, rather than on the 
characteristics of perfection; and is more engaged in re- 
futing error than in establishing truth. In criticism, too, 
he is more the philosopher than the student of art. He 
wants that pliancy of the imagination with which Herder 
transports himself into the poetry of all ages and nations. 
In the philosophy of history it is this keen relish of the 
poetical element in the character of national legend, that 
gift of realizing to his fancy the most varied modes of life 
and thought which he of all others so eminently possessed, 
that constitute such distinctive features of Herder's genius : 
as a theologian, he was especially captivated by the poetry 
of the Hebrews. He might almost be styled the mytho- 
logist of our literature, on account of this manifold poetic 
sense, this gift of appreciating ancient legends, and the 
sympathy with which he conceived all possible shapes and 
beings of airy fancy : endowments in themselves arguing 
the possession of a high degree of imagination. "We must 
not, however, look for critical accuracy or philosophic and 
religious depth from this thinker who, though endowed with 
genius, fancy, and feeling, naturally inclined, after all, to 
aesthetics. Himself keenly alive to every phase of imagina- 
tion, he succeeded in creating a general taste for ancient 
legend and mythology. But in order to gather the deeper 
sense of mythology and antique symbol, and to extract the 
genuine essence of their imagery from the surrounding 
elements of fable, a deeper knowledge of philosophy and re- 
ligion is needful : just as the varied play of colours, in all 
their manifold refractions, can alone be significantly deter- 
mined by examining the principles of light itself. In the 
absence of this enlightening ray, the study of legendary 
mythology leads but to scientific fanciful imaginings blended 
with indefinite perceptions, such as Herder was the means 
of introducing into the arena of history and philology. 
He never climbed the heights of religious elevation, but 
contented himself with following the bent of his native 
talents and artistic sense, thus materially contributing to 
confirm and expand the innate tendencies of the German 
mind. It is to be regretted that he forsook his earlier path, 
viz., that of regarding primitive revelation as the key to all 
philosophy, legend, tradition, and mythology, and that later 



WINCKELMANN. 3 05 

in life he sank into the fashionable taste for a vapid en- 
lightenment. 

Upon the whole, more artistic and aesthetic views have 
prevailed in every direction since Winckelmann became a 
recognized authority. "With this not only did the natural 
inclination of German genius to art and poesy co-operate, 
but likewise the isolation of the great majority of gifted men 
from any public sphere of activity. The German mind, for 
the most part, had to choose between two alternatives : inner 
activity removed from the offices of social and civil duty, or 
artistic and poetic functions resuming their connection with 
the social compact in after years. At first, the former of 
these two was in the ascendant, even to the prejudice of the 
latter : since many writers, having devoted the greater por- 
tion of their attention to a consideration of the principles of 
art and their practical employment, had not sufficiently cul- 
tivated a taste for philosophic pursuits to be enabled to 
turn it to advantage. Even in Winckelmann this taste is 
obvious : his lofty artistic ideas are all based on platonic 
enthusiasm drawn from the source, and permeating his 
entire system. Of all philosophic models, this harmonizes 
most completely with a contemplation of high art : yet his 
inner-current of platonism was occasionally so strong as 
completely to lift him above all contemplation of art. His 
later writings evince this philosophic tendency in a more 
marked and especial manner, and I am not satisfied that it 
would not have been an accession to German philosophy if 
it had been inaugurated by a Platonist such as Winckelmann 
was calculated to have been. 

When his mind attained to maturity, Lessing abandoned 
those antiquarian researches as well as theatrical and artistic 
criticism, which had been the cherished occupations of earlier 
years, as though they were mere juvenile occupations. A 
philosophic investigation of truth constituted the object of 
all his later endeavours, on which he brought to bear a spirit 
of earnest enthusiasm such as had characterized none of his 
previous undertakings. To shine in these had once been 
alike his pride and his delight : in their pursuit he seemed to 
have been desirous of testing the powers of his general 
fancy, especially against feebler opponents, rather than of 
advocating the cause itself, on its intrinsic merits or from 



3G6 LAVATER. 

deliberate choice. However much it may have been a ne- 
cessity of his nature to practise his powers in the manifold 
spheres of art and genius, philosophy was unquestionably 
his calling. He was so far in advance of his age as to be 
universally understood, the more so, that his philosophy was 
never fully matured or developed : his want of system 
causing his indirect and casual declarations to resemble 
sketchy outlines rather than a perfect picture. 

Of the philosophers of the older school, Sulzer especially 
confined his inquiry to artistic subjects, in accordance with 
the prevalent tastes of the time : Mendelssohn sought to 
establish the general truths of religion on a philosophical 
basis: Grarve, though not exactly a follower of Leibnitz, 
nevertheless may be classed with that generation in re- 
ference to his general style. He devoted himself to the 
moral philosophy of England and of the ancients : the result 
sufficed to prove that a theory of life founded on probabi- 
lities and presumptions, in the absence of a profounder 
recognition of what is true and certain in itself, could not 
satisfy the Grerman mind. The philosophic romances of 
Wieland contributed to the dissemination of a system of 
morals, in Socratic guise, but based on the tenets of Epicurus, 
particularly among the higher classes of society, not with- 
out injurious consequences to public opinion ; at least, 
it may be said that a too indulgent and effeminate moral 
code was not the most fitting preparation for the arduous 
struggle that impended over the nation and the age. 

The fame of Kant was not yet in its zenith. In reserved 
seclusion, Lavater pursued his own peculiar course of study. 
His views on physiognomy have been held up to ridicule, 
whilst some of his conceptions procured for him the appella- 
tion of a dreamy enthusiast. The philosophic penetration 
of his mind has been altogether misconstrued : the frag- 
mentary expression of his method subjected him to disad- 
vantages, for his living faith was foreign to the scholastic 
philosophy of his time. He is, in my opinion, one of the 
most admirable and remarkable inquirers after truth in the 
eighteenth century next to Hamann and Lessing. These 
three solitary thinkers constitute an isolated circle, equalLy 
removed from the rancorous sectarianism of contending 
faction, and the formulas of the schools : in which we may 



LES5ING. 367 

discern the first germs of a Christian philosophy. Haraann 
delineated the Word of primitive revelation as an enigma jet 
■waiting solution: his voice was unheeded in the desert of 
general illumination. The profundity of Lavater conceived 
the truths of Christianity as the focal point of ideal know- 
ledge. The third addition to these unconscious spiritualists 
and independent Christian thinkers of Germany is the great 
name of Lessing, whose clear-sighted intellect penetrated to 
the very turning-points of revelation : and knowledge, tradi- 
tion and freedom of thought. 

The writings of Eeimarus, of the older school, in support 
of the connection subsisting between natural religion and 
human reason, are of the ordinary kind. But his systematic 
attack on revealed religion proved of incomparably greater 
importance in their results. Lessing, who entered upon 
historical investigation with an earnest wish to probe it to the 
bottom, thought it desirable to give every publicity to the 
attack made. It was his conviction that -the time had come 
when it was advisable no longer to suppress any doubts, but 
rather to court their expression, in order that they might be 
answered and the truth be brought to light. Lessing's 
philosophy was directed straight to the mark, namely, the 
truth of religion. Usual questions and discussions, inci- 
dental to the philosophy of the age, and in which its energies 
were wont to be tired out ever since the days of Descartes 
and Locke, had no interest for him. On the other hand, his 
" Education of Humanity," and " Freemasons' Dialogues," 
as, indeed, all his philosophic polemics, touched upon points 
intimately connected with the principal themes of sublime 
philosophy, but which had almost escaped the critical notice 
of the age. As regards philosophy, he had quite outgrown 
the standard of the eighteenth century. Of those who may 
be classed in approximate rank, Leibnitz was the only one 
who at all approached his lofty proportions ; and him he 
considered as at a great distance from those who called 
themselves his followers : he understood him better than any 
of them, because he had studied Spinoza. If that metaphy- 
sical system deserves to be called superficial, which not only 
cannot refute the greatest of its opponents, but would fain 
shun and ignore him, it cannot be denied that Lessing pene- 
trated further than Kant, though not so systematically, into 



368 LESSING. 

the deep places of philosophy. Had his career terminated 
less prematurely, had he been more sparing of his powers, 
and more regular in their application, the results would 
have incontestably proved that this was the case. The 
development of German philosophy would have probably 
been more felicitous if Lessing's independent and bold spirit 
had co-operated in its extension, than was subsequently the 
case through the sole agency of Kant. Lessing scarcely 
ever publicly promulgated his own philosophic theories : all 
that he incidentally let fall bore the appearance of extraor- 
dinary paradox. Bat he was no actual disciple of Spinoza, 
as was asserted after his death, except in so far as an inquirer 
may, in the course of his speculations, happen to incline to 
some particular fallacy, which he is not yet in a position to 
refute, and which is perhaps destined to serve him as a bridge 
to the truth. The most decisive proof of this is his adherence 
to the doctrine of transmigration of souls : of all his favourite 
theories this appeared to be the most deeply rooted. But 
this doctrine is not in harmony with Spinoza's system which 
repudiates all change of individuals, as also their personal 
after-existence. This circumstance, then, warrants the sup- 
position that Lessing was especially attached to the older ori- 
ental philosophy, and he himself furnishes convincing proof 
of it. It would almost seem as though they were right who 
hold that too much care can hardly be taken to guard against 
the dangers of enthusiasm. Since neither the vast acquire- 
ments of Leibnitz, nor the perspicuous intellect of Lessing 
availed to emancipate either of them from the thraldom of 
enthusiasm, as it is designated by those critics ; it would 
thus appear to be difficult to escape its influence at a certain 
degree of mental elevation. 

Yet little of this secret enthusiasm on the part of a single 
spirited inquirer really infected general opinion. His doubts 
and the example of his boldness operated more powerfully 
as well as extensively : without intending it, he assisted the 
very system so repugnant to his tastes, and so often em- 
battled by him. In a certain sense, Lessing finished what 
Luther had commenced : as a critical investigator he com- 
pleted the work of German Protestantism, and led the way 
to the impending crisis. So, at a more recent period, and in 
the path of independent scientific thought, Eichte pursued 



LESSING. 3G9 

the Protestant principle of freedom, and as an uncompromis- 
ing idealist reached the pinnacle of finished Protestantism in 
this direction. Hence the activity of the human mind 
naturally suffered a revulsion : returning from the self-con- 
stituted abyss of unlimited thought to the recognition of 
revelation or a Divine positive, though this could not be 
effected without constant contradiction, aud deceptive re- 
mains of ancient error, with frequent relapse. As a definite 
system, Protestantism in Germany could not co-exist with 
unlimited freedom of thought, neither could it endure in 
religion or science subsequent to the crisis mainly brought 
about by Lessing. Since Fichte elevated independent 
thought to ideal heights, an experiment that left the mind 
unsatisfied, science has more and more returned to positive 
principles in nature, in history, and in tradition, frequently 
not without the admixture of various errors. As regards 
faith, the crisis mentioned above was the means of substitut- 
ing an essentially individual religion of the feelings among 
pious Protestants in place of the older system no longer 
tenable. The bold freedom of his inquiry reconducted 
Lessing himself to a belief in the most ancient philosophy, 
and to a recognition of the legitimate authority of tradition 
in the Church. 

The immediate influence of Lessing throughout Protestant 
Germany was, accordingly, of a destructive character. If 
this total dissolution of the then mode of thinking and of 
Protestant faith was to be attended by beneficial results 
hereafter : if the bulwarks of Truth were to be razed merely 
to found a more lasting structure and plant a creed on the 
congenial soil of conviction and deep feeling, can alone be 
decided by the progress of years. At any rate, the direct 
effects were of a varied nature. The recognized freedom of 
thought was far less directed to the promotion of scientific 
discoveries and researches than to destructive purposes. 
There seemed to be a general desire to eradicate prejudice 
under the insinuating guise of Illuminism. In many in- 
stances, involving interests of little moment and easily de- 
cided, this really happened. But to cases in which import- 
ant principles were at stake, no fixed standard was ever 
applied in order to discriminate between prejudice and truth, 
faith and infidelity. Some idea of the manifold abuses to 

2 B 



370 JUNG-STILLING, STARK AND CLAUDIUS. 

which the new mode was liable, as well as the immense 
variety of inconsistent principles it entailed, may be gathered 
from a comparison of the construction put upon independent 
thought and Illuminism by that profound thinker and honest 
doubter, the philosophic Lessing, with the views entertained 
by Basedow, Nikolai, and Weisshaupt. It has already been 
shewn that the same persons who fiercely advocated toleration 
were themselves most intolerant towards those whose opi- 
nions chanced to differ from their own. Yet this is, per- 
haps, too general a feature of human weakness to be made 
the subject of especial reproach. If scepticism, infidelity, 
and systematic disinclination to religion were not as open 
and shameless in Germany as in France, or, in individual 
instances, in England, the very moderation of temperate 
infidelity, so flattering to human reason and so gentle in its 
attack on faith and the feelings, contributed not a little to 
disseminate it both rapidly and extensively. Of the writers 
who were not carried away by the current of thought as it 
then set in, but secretly influenced that period as Christian 
thinkers, Jung-Stilling and Stark deserve especial mention; 
The former of these, in the direction of internal Christianity, 
aroused a deeper religious feeling among Protestants with 
freer individual views ; and the latter has expressed in his 
writings, in the most positive manner, his conviction of the 
truth of the Catholic faith. To these gifted names may be 
added that of Claudius, whose lucid embodiment of the 
deeper mysteries of Christianity, in the cheerful garb of 
popular works adapted to the young, was at once admirable 
and successful. 

Let us briefly glance at the external condition of intellec- 
tual development during that epoch. Peace and prosperity 
in Grermany were no less favourable to general mental cul- 
ture than to the diffusion of a novel system of thought. 
Although science and art cannot everywhere be said to have 
met with positive or even sufficient encouragement, yet it 
could not but be a matter of congratulation and self-respect 
that towards the middle of the eighteenth century, and 
later, Germany boasted of a greater number of distinguished 
sovereigns than all the rest of Europe. Frederick and 
Maria Theresa, in different ways, constituted the just pride 
of their people ; whilst the Emperor Joseph gave promise of 



JOSEPH II. 371 

still greater glory. He realized those fond expectations by 
an illustrious and memorable reign. In regard to natural 
culture of art and intellect, the patriotic hopes of Klopstock 
were once more doomed to disappointment. As his sceptre 
swayed the destinies of many important countries beyond 
the territories of Germany, it might have been expected that 
Joseph II. would found some comprehensive scientific insti- 
tute embracing the intellectual interests of Europe generally 
rather than those of Germany alone. Had he done so he 
would doubtless not merely have consulted the advantage of 
his own dominions, but have influenced very considerably the 
subsequent progress of public opinion and the entire deve- 
lopment of the age. The Emperor, however, paid especial 
attention to the practical development of science. Not that 
he ever underrated science generally, for the value he set 
upon many legislative, judicial, and financial theories of the 
age then in vogue, long since exploded as impracticable 
hypotheses at the best, was far more than they deserved. 
However natural it may seem that an active sovereign should 
incline to a practical view of science, still the example just 
quoted ought not to regulate the conduct of future monarchs. 
It being now a principle universally recognized as sound, 
that the intellectual culture of a nation is no less important 
to the state and to its ruler than physical power or external 
splendour, it follows that everything which tends to advance 
the former, even without reference to immediate utility, is 
in itself deserving of consideration. 

I now proceed to the third generation of modern German 
literature, which differs widely from the two preceding ones. 
To have a clear conception of the German character of these 
several epochs is the surest means of solving apparent con- 
tradictions, and reconciling opinions seemingly inconsistent, 
by explaining misconstruction, and placing certain peculia- 
rities in their true light : provided always there be no essen- 
tial radical difference in the mode of thought. It frequently 
happens that external relations and the dominant spirit of 
the age, witnessing the early development and culture of a 
writer mould his leading characteristics : in every case, they 
materially influence the whole of his subsequent career. 

The third generation comprises all those writers whose 
development and culture date from 1780 or 1790. Here, too, 



372 THIRD GENERATION OF GERMAN WRITERS. 

external relations and the genius of the age exercised a 
remarkable and decided influence over German literature : 
an influence not confined to authors, but extending to the 
general public. Formerly, the public appealed to by Ger- 
man poets and writers, consisted for the most part of a 
select number of art-amateurs and scattered dilletanti. It 
was so when Klopstock and his contemporaries flourished : 
by slow degrees the little band waxed in numbers and im- 
portance. The revolution was favourable to the increase of 
writers on the one hand, and of readers on the other: from 
the arena of politics men turned their attention to the 
domains of philosophy, and of literature generally. How 
injurious soever the results of this revolution may have 
occasionally proved, universal sympathy could not fail to be 
aroused, and if partizanship was carried to greater lengths, 
it was still a gain to intellectual energy which often derives 
great accession of power from the excitement of a contest. 
Were I desirous of applying a comprehensive epithet to this 
epoch, without hazarding misconstruction, I should be dis- 
posed to designate it the revolutionary period : if I may be 
allowed to adopt the expression in a sense deviating some- 
what from its common usage! And yet it should be remem- 
bered to the credit of German writers as a whole, that at 
least the first and more eminent of their number were free 
from all democratic taint of the early revolutionary period. 
Eorster alone requires our sympathy, who misled by others 
and self-deluded, perished in the eddying vortex : a loss to 
literature and the world at large. If some leading minds 
were not altogether free from sharing the deceitful hopes of 
the age, their sense of right soon came to the rescue, and 
they made rich amends for transient error. I use the term, 
then, in the sense of that admirable saying " Burke wrote 
a revolutionary book against the revolution." The remark 
is to be understood thus : he delineated the convulsions 
of the age in terms of such transcendent eloquence, and 
so fully perceived the dangers and the magnitude of the 
impending struggle, that he himself was thrown into a state 
of contagious violence when he composed his book. It 
is this condition of external, but still more internal, 
struggle that I regard as the genuine characteristics of 
poets and writers who belonged to this third generation. 
To justify and illustrate my opinion, it is only necessary 



SCHILLER AND MuLLER. 3/3 

for me to point to a distinguished writer and poet of 
this epoch, whose memorable career is already displayed 
to our view in its full extent. In the impassioned produc- 
tions of his early prime, we see Schiller incessantly convul- 
sed by the conflict of inner emotions : he is urged onwards 
by the enthusiastic hopes to improve the existing state of all 
things, a species of opposition distinctively preceding the 
revolution. Some of his youthful poems give vent to his 
doubts in strains the most passionate : but this scepticism, 
coupled with the lofty earnest and fiery glow of a youthful 
heart, if it deserve reproof yet enlists our sympathy, and 
not unreasonably excites a hope that so mighty an aspira- 
tion after Truth in so manly a bosom, could not long remain 
unsatisfied. How violent the transitions in Schiller's riper 
years : how constant the struggle with himself and the world, 
with the philosophy of the age and his own art ! Restless 
and sensitive, he is here and there seized with the giddiness 
arising from external convulsion, This it is that I would 
convey in the expression employed above, and which I 
remark more or less in all distinguished authors of that 
epoch. 

The poets and genial writers of the second generation lived 
in a state of security which almost seems marvellous in our 
eyes, accustomed as we are to detect the first symptoms of 
approaching danger and convulsion in their time. But they 
were indifferent not only to all political relations and events, 
but also to the external aspect of the world in general, living 
on in undisturbed enjoyment of their artistic and genial 
faculties. Johannes Muller forms the the sole exception ; 
his mind, intent upon these themes, from the solitary gran- 
deur of Alpine heights, naturally discerned the gathering 
storm both sooner and with more unerring vision than the 
inhabitants of peaceful dales or of too busy cities. Instead 
of this artistic blissful repose, we see the writers of the suc- 
ceeding generation, from 1780-90, absorbed in passing 
events : devoted to the interests of the age, heart and soul, 
their entire activity was directed to the raging conflict. I 
will only instance one or two extreme cases in point. By 
what other means did the most popular, indispensable, and 
copious of all writers of that period, become a necessity of 
it, the wonted appliance as it were of a time-beguiling em- 



374 THIRD GENERATION OF GERMAN WRITERS. 

dium, than just these, that he knew how to address himself 
to the sympathy of the age, and to gain possession of it ? 
A curious example, and instructive to future times in refe- 
rence to social degeneracy and a decline of taste. The oppo- 
site extreme of this adroit appeal to temporary infirmity is 
exhibited by that celebrated philosopher, who fancied he had 
discovered in self the secret of Archimedes to move the 
world and revolutionize the age. A third illustration indi- 
cative of the relation of the writer to his times, is furuished 
by one who constitutes a medium between pampering the 
infirmities of the age and boldly undertaking to set all 
matters right, single-handed and with arbitrary powers. 
That humourous national favourite, who owed his reputation 
to the happy tact with which he managed to display all the 
varied fertility of so perplexed a season, its echoes and its 
want of harmony, with such copious wit, pathos, and charac- 
teristic humour, and in so mixed a consonant dissonant style 
as to form a striking portraiture of the several features of 
the age, in the whole extent of its vast chaotic resources. 

The faults incidental to writers participating in this revo- 
lution of the intellect may justly be charged against the 
thinkers and poets above-named. Yet this ought not to 
exclude Schiller, Eichte, and others, who spent their best 
energies on art and science, and who after manfully fighting 
the battle of their time, contributed largely to the impor- 
tant work of development, from receiving the meed of honour 
due to their mental faculties and their essential merits. 

Others, turning away from directly confronting the chao- 
tic state of existing humanity, betook themselves to the 
realms of fancy, with whose pleasurable delights they dis- 
ported : or threw themselves into the arms of nature, con- 
templating her scientifically without any reference to man- 
kind. Inquirers of another class fastened with enthusiasm 
on the heroism of the past, and transported with rapture 
hoped to find in that a solution of the enigmatic present. 
The most eminent of the number, dissatisfied with the exter- 
nal world and with the aspect of science, returned to the 
consideration of religion, which had well-nigh outgrown the 
memories of the age, and to Christianity so long misinterpre- 
ted. Here too, individual instances of error and misconcep- 
tion were not wanting : but the absence of moral courage and 



SCHTLLEB. 375 

of necessary decision of character, in order to exemplify by 
deeds and openly avow the truth when inwardly recognized, 
was still more conspicuous. Few honest well-disposed per- 
sons will doubt that, after all, this failing of the age and of 
ourselves can be supplied by no other means. But the agree- 
ment of those who have found the Truth again, and know 
and love Christianity among the Protestants, or of those 
who seek it and approach it among the Philosophers, with 
those who have adhered to the Catholic centre, will always 
be developed more fully for every great thing which forms 
an epoch, unfolds itself only by an uniform breaking forth 
of many individual forces. 

The picture is scarcely perceptible of further details : it 
being difficult to depict our own times. "Whenever an 
external contest rages in some field of human activity, be it 
civil or spiritual, the more fierce the contest grows the more 
likely is it that none of the combatants are altogether in 
the right. For those who are most so will, nevertheless, be 
chargeable with some element of error. This is a necessary 
concomitant of chaotic confusion. In reference to art and 
the practical development of intellect, the greater the inter- 
nal conflict, the more excellent, occasionally, are its visible 
productions. I need only direct attention to the immense 
gap between the Robbers, Don Carlos, and Wallenstein* in 
the respective gradations of Schiller's genius. On the 
whole, it may be said that harmonious perfection and beauty 
are not the fruits of internal mental conflict, so long as it 
endures : but it is calculated to develop great fertility of 
thought. Prolific invention essentially constitutes the dis- 
tinctive feature of the third generation of G-erman litera- 
ture : a distinction which other nations were by no means 
slow to recognize. Yet even this period is embellished by 
individual compositions that may fairly be cited as speci- 
mens not only of finished art, but also of harmonious ani- 
mated feeling, and -great beauty of expression. In the 
main, however, as has already been said, fragmentary ideal 
wealth is the predominant characteristic of our epoch, har- 
monious finishing forming the rare exception. 

Though we may be of opinion that a general amnesty 
should be extended to this struggling period of our litera- 
ture, as equally necessary to all parties concerned : and 

* AH translated in Bonn's edition of Schiller's works. 



3/6 THE PHILOSOPHY OP KANT. 

though a preference may be given to the more successful 
poets of the first and second generation in regard to artistic 
elegance and beauty of diction : the ideality which marks 
the third epoch confers upon it a singular distinction, and he 
whose mental culture dates from 1788-1802, despite many 
injurious circumstances, will not readily exchange his privi- 
leges for those of the two preceding periods. 

The philosophy of Kant had a most decided influence at 
this time. I do not believe that, on the whole, it exercised 
injurious effects on public thought and faith. .The latter had 
already been convulsed to its very foundations by other agen- 
cies. If the doubts of some were now increased or first 
excited, their earnestness and depth of feeling proved a 
sufficient counteracting remedy. This was not to be sought 
for among the dilapidated ruins of so-called Eationalism : 
independently of that, Kant's philosophy contained many 
varied suggestions calculated to guide the earnest student to 
the path of sublime conviction from which he may have 
strayed.* When it is remembered that even in Germany, 
the philosophy of the age had materially sapped belief in all 
high contemplations : the system of Kant will be found 
rather to have operated beneficially, bridging the Truth to 
some, or, at the least, pointing in the right direction. It is 
to be regretted that this philosophy so soon sank to the 
level of sectarianism. Yet this was a transitory evil, as also 
barbarism of expression. Kant's own style here and there 
bears a characteristic impress, a certain peculiarity, combin- 
ing genius and wit with philosophic penetration. On the 
whole, however, and especially in the structure of his 
periods, his composition uniformly betrays a spirit labo- 
riously toiling after Truth, yet tossed to and fro by doubts. 
Hence arose his infelicitous terminology. That barbarism 
and the cipher-language of philosophy have now for the 
most part disappeared : but few distinguished writers retain 
any traces of it, and that from a want of due care. Several 
compositions of a later period might be cited as perfect 
models of expression. 

Many of his predecessors' defects in the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries recur in Kant's philosophy. He com- 
mences with the lifeless conceptions of Leibnitz in reference 

* Kant's principal work is the " Kritik of Pure Reason," translated in 
Bonn's Standard Library. 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF KANT. 377 

to space and time, continually wavers between self and the 
external world of sense, like almost all philosophers from 
Descartes downwards, and eventually commits himself to 
experience, like Locke. But as experience is incompetent 
to pronounce an opinion upon morals and religion, he erects 
a system of rational faith out of the scattered fragments of 
rational knowledge, in a manner similar to the course of 
English philosophers. But since he had himself previously 
attacked the system of Eeason, it had lost its credit with 
others and took no permanent hold. His moral philosophy 
had the merit of especially demonstrating the position to be 
assigned to practical reason in this department of human 
knowledge : still more forcibly than the example of the 
Stoics, the impossibility of establishing a fitting system of 
morals without the addition of other elements than those 
derived from practical reason. It sets forth in unmistakeable 
terms that such a system is not only unsatisfactory to 
humanity, but also totally inapplicable to many relations of 
life ; leading to the strangest results even when most logi- 
cally pursued. Men soon returned from this rigid and 
impracticable scheme of morals. 

Kant's greatest merit consists in having established the 
point that Reason of itself is void and empty, valid only in 
its application to Experience, and what is within her pro- 
vince, and that hence it is not fitted to conduct to a know- 
ledge of God or of divine things. Instead of acknowledging 
farther that these exalted subjects are to be approached only 
by means of inward perception and Divine revelation, and 
that sublime philosophy is an experimental science : instead 
of assigning to Eeason, in the empire of supernatural Expe- 
rience,the same secondary subordinate position, he enthroned 
Eeason, disguised under the unsuitable mask of faith. Had 
he adopted olden simplicity, had he paved the way to inner 
perception and enlightened belief, in a spirit of scientific 
criticism, by means of Eeason as subsidiary to Eevelation, as 
it is to given facts in the realms of Experience, he might have 
become to philosophy what Bacon was to physics. Eescuing 
her from idle logomachies, he might have constituted her a 
sure, living, experimental science: in a word, he might have 
reinstated her in her legitimate authority. 

But he ignored all inner perception, everything super- 



378 THE PHILOSOPHY OF KANT. 

sensuous, all save the vacuum of rational notions, bereft of 
every kind of matter. Involved in this lifeless and prepos- 
terous mode of thinking, he had no alternative but to resort 
to an artificial faith : for he could come to no choice or 
decision, owing to the continuous conflict of self and the 
external world of sense. His followers were bolder, since 
they referred all things to self, or betook thomselves wholly 
to the external world and the infinite power of Nature. The 
system of alleged pure Rationalism, which Kant would have 
destroyed, thus reappeared in two forms : in the shape of an 
artificial structure based on self, and as an unlimited world- 
science. This result was natural enough, inasmuch as Kant 
had not only passed over entirely the source of exalted 
Truth, but in revealing the inward contradiction and the 
emptiness of Eeason, against whose arrogated supremacy he 
had himself contended, he had failed to reach the original 
foundations of the evil. "We cannot, then, but cordially agree 
with Jacobi when he equally repudiates hollow Rationalism 
and absolute deification of Nature : though this latter tenet 
ought not justly to be charged against the more distinguished 
class of natural philosophers. Meanwhile, his own theory of 
consciousness, or of the moral sense unassisted by definite 
conceptions of faith — for he never could or would penetrate 
to the Divine positive principles of Christianity — remains 
quite as unsatisfactory. This philosopher's sceptical views 
of individual feeling, vacillating will, and uncertain conscious- 
ness, form a corresponding half to Kant's sceptical views of 
the intellect, without affording a better solution. Those two 
theories of doubt and total ignorance, together with Fichte's 
system of ideal reason, and the dynamic play of the Abso- 
lute or scientific delirium of natural philosophy unenlightened 
by Christian Revelation — form a complete and fourfold cycle. 
Although each of these four elementary powers is differently 
derived from a lifeless abstract consciousness, assuming the 
most varied shapes according to time and circumstance, the 
substratum of error is in the case of all essentially the same. 
Further to pursue the principal phases of error issuing 
from the philosophy of Kant, and to explain the present 
development of German philosophy more minutely, would 
carry me beyond the limits of my present plan. Living poets, 
whose whole career is amply illustrated by a series of finished 



NOYALIS. 379 

productions, will be more fittingly described in an historic 
delineation of the most recent times. This is not the case 
with philosophers whose mode of thought is shiftingly deve- 
loped, and whose system is yet in the process of formation. 
I will here simply remark in general terms that the profound 
inquiries which have been instituted in Germany since Kant's 
time, and the familiarized acquaintance with ancient philoso- 
phers — in regard to which as also to auxiliary and cognate 
branches of learning we enjoy advantages superior to those 
of other nations — have contributed to open up many paths 
for a return to Truth from every kind of error. The more so 
in the case of speculative errors, that their exhibition is mani- 
fest and complete. The entire system of actual error, in its 
several departments of false and scattered consciousness, 
being now fully exhausted by the great talents of those I 
have named, resulting in internecine destruction, the arena 
has been cleared, and men have begun to return once more 
to the gushing springs of living thought, to know God and 
Divine things in spirit and in truth. A return, such as this, 
from the errors introduced by Kant, has in several instances 
been realized. To adduce one of many examples, I need 
only cite the case of my deceased friend TIardenberg or 
Novalis. Not that he was the first to enter the sure path 
leading unto Truth and a knowledge of God, or to prepare 
the same for others, but the thoughts and fragments of poesy 
he bequeathed to posterity are so full of good seed, scattered 
in all directions with lavish profusion, as to warrant the hope 
that it may bring forth fruit, and conduce to the attainment 
of genuine love and true knowledge. Stollberg has unfolded 
the glories of his faith with a dignified simplicity and lucid 
beauty that resulted in peace to his own heart and imparted 
fresh vigour to his spirit. Many other honourable instances 
might be mentioned of distinguished talents adding the tes- 
timony of their conviction of the Truth, though all may not 
have possessed the philosophic fulness of Hardenberg, or the 
clear religious impressions of Stollberg, conveyed in his own 
gifted manner, xidvances to the Truth are already met with 
on every side, and hopes may reasonably be entertained that 
the return will soon be general, and that German philosophy 
will yet come to be regarded as the champion and interpreter 
of Truth rather than its foe. It is vain to attempt to rally 
the followers of Kant under a novel disguise : the season of 



380 GOETHE. 

empty formulas has passed away. Fichte and Jacobi at no 
time mustered a numerous band of adherents : the nature of 
their system prevented the formation of a sect : a re-establish* 
ment of the principles of either, under whatever shape, were 
a task equally hopeless. They have disappeared like meteors, 
or at most have served profound inquirers as intermediate 
steps in the ladder of investigation. Natural philosophers, 
too, now begin each to shape his own course, so that they can 
hardly be classified: absolute formulas vanish in the presence 
of positive fulness of principle, whilst this latter comes forth 
more clearly every day from Nature's secrets and the pro- 
fundity of Revelation. A recognition of Revelation, and a 
knowledge of Christianity, are become increasing exigencies, 
so that in many cases it needs only a few steps further wholly 
to reject the turbid impurities of previous systems. On every 
occasion discrimination should be made between the person 
and the opinion, the confused multitude and select minds of 
a higher order, the obscurity of the external system and the 
lucid clearness of superior minds. But above all, care should 
be taken not to mistrust or disbelieve philosophy generally, 
because of some important misconceptions that still exist in 
German systems of belief. False philosophy can only be 
removed and supplanted by the genuine, which must, there- 
fore, labour for the restoration of Truth, that great want of 
the age. 

All who have devoted themselves to bear witness to the 
Truth, whether in the religious Faith, or in Christian Philo- 
sophy, or in both, are only single atoms of a higher Future. 
But who can any longer deny that the great reunion must 
be in the Faith itself, and then the other reunion, not less 
important, of Science and of Faith, will take place and be 
consummated where the discord began ? 

To return to the poets. At this later period G-oethe's 
more mature works came into general popularity : others 
date their publication from this time. The best of these are 
now admitted to be the most finished specimens of poetic 
art and harmonious diction in our language. He is pre- 
eminently master of the genial powers aud ease which are 
characteristic of the second generation. In one point, how- 
ever, his example might, possibly, prove misleading, namely 
— the application of his muse to the passiug hour, even in 
his riper productions, with an exquisite art such as ftw 



GOETHE. 381 

other poets have cared to bestow on very modern subjects. 
Yet this facilitates our criticism, by enabling us to compare 
his artistic execution of modern themes with the poetic 
elements of his older performances. How inferior is 
Eugenie to Fgniont, when the two are contrasted as poetic 
representations of civil commotions and state-revolutions 
among the people and in the cabinets of princes ! Or if it 
be allowed to contrast works differing in external structure 
though of similar import, let a comparison be instituted be- 
tween the Elective Affinities and Tasso, as regards a deli- 
neation of the passions, unfolded amid circumstances of a high 
social position. Again, let Tasso be considered as a delinea- 
tion of the artist in his opposition to the external world — (as 
Faust embodies the internal conflict of the ideal mind) —and 
compared with Wilhehn Meister, how great the superiority 
of the latter composition both in richness of thought and 
artistic style ! Poetically speaking, I believe the produc- 
tion just named, Faust, Iphigenia, Fgmont, Tasso* will serve 
to perpetuate the memory of Goethe to the latest times : as 
also his admirable lays, all equally excellent. We willingly 
follow the aged magician, whether his verse sounds from the 
east or from the west, drawn irresistibly into his enchanted 
circle : whilst his prosaic thoughts only disclose the painful 
spectacle of a great mind involved in a struggle whence he 
cannot victoriously emerge. 

A doubt has been entertained by some whether Goethe's 
native genius was really adapted to dramatic poesy : and the 
repose of his picturesque delineation did not rather fit him for 
epic poems, as evinced even in such productions as Fgniont, 
especially destined for the stage. But his attempts in this 
branch of composition, approximating closely to the epic, do 
not favour this view. It almost appears as though he could 
neither hit upon a fitting theme for epic composition, nor on 
a form satisfactory to himself. His feelings at all times 
prompted him to select the romantic rather than the heroic : 
the former, in its most comprehensive sense, blending fancy 
and wit with feeling and speculation, aroused by the passing 
occurrences of life, and moulded by the rich endowments of 
the intellect, seems to have constituted the legitimate sphere 
of his activity in diversified gradation and admixture. 

* Translations of all these works of Goethe are contained in Bonn's 
edition of his works. 



382 SCHILLER. 

His influence upon the age was twofold, and such also 
appeals to us his nature. In reference to art, he has justly 
been considered by many the Shakspeare of our times : I say 
our times, leaning as they do to ideal fulness and manifold 
culture more than to artistic perfection in any one poetic 
direction : hence this perfection is not to be expected of our 
bard in equal degree with that of the earlier dramatic 
master. In reference to thought, however, as it refers to 
life, and determines the actions of life, our poet might also 
be styled the Voltaire of Germany. Thoroughly German 
in all things, chiefly in this, that his poetic wantonness and 
irony are more poetical, good-natured, honest, and earnest, 
than in the case of Voltaire, when giving expression to. his 
indifference and unbelief, and when jesting with his own 
feelings. Yet all the varied culture, the spirited irony, the 
teeming wit of Goethe, cannot conceal the fact that his in- 
tellect, prodigal of thought, wanted some fixed and sure 
centre. 

The alienation of poetry from the stage was continually 
being manifested in Germany ever since the time of Klop- 
stock: Goethe himself producing many dramas without the 
slightest reference to their scenic adaptation, and without 
any view to the destination they subsequently attained. 

So in the case ot Schiller's Don Carlos: after he had 
resisted all the seductive influences of universal applause, 
with which his early ruder productions were greeted, he found 
it difficult to produce equal success by the more digni- 
fied exercise of his art. But though a certain discrepancy still 
obtains between his poetry and the requirements of our 
stage, he must nevertheless be regarded as its true founder. 
He gave it its proper sphere and its most happy form. The 
poetic form of our loftier drama has been not a little in- 
fluenced by the masterly translation of Shakspeare and 
Calderon, executed in finished poetic diction and manifold 
elegance of verse, by A. W. Schlegel : indeed the nobler 
efforts of poetry generally have gained a new standard of 
artistic criticism in this model of genuine style. Schiller 
was altogether a dramatic poet : even his passionate rhetoric, 
an important adjunct to his muse, is an essential and cha- 
racteristic element. His historical, as well as his philo- 
sophical, works and attempts are to be considered merely 



SCIIILLER. 383 

subsidiary to his dramatic studies. Yet his philosophical 
efforts are remarkable in so far as they chiefly represent his 
inmost thoughts and exhibit his want of mental harmony. 
Doubting, sceptical, unsatisfied views, gleam out from be- 
neath those efforts to satisfy the cravings of an inquiring 
mind. He remained always at the threshold of doubt, 
hence, even in his noblest, most animated productions, we 
are chilled by the breath of an internal coldness. 

There are some who fancy his philosophic pursuits were 
injurious to himself and to his art. But, before he entered 
upon these, his intellect was already entangled in scepticism ; 
and it must be conceded that the internal satisfaction of a 
mind like his was of far more importance than all external 
art-culture. But even for artistic purposes, Schiller's great 
historical and philosophic preparations are rather commend- 
able than otherwise in reference to some of his dramas. 
Our stage will reap no laurels from the extensive or the 
rapid labours of voluminous scenic poets. Dramatic excel- 
lence, as in Greece, England, and Spain, is only attainable 
by means of profound thought and historical selection. If, 
in certain works, composed towards the middle period of his 
career, Schiller is not exempt from the heterodox applica- 
tion of philosophic ideas respecting the nature of ancient 
tragedy, or from historical bias, the defects are not attri- 
butable to speculative tendencies so much as to a compara- 
tively superficial acquaintance with these branches, a 
shortcoming of valuable results, despite his earnestness 
and intended depth of research. In a much greater degree 
than Schiller, Werner introduced all the mysteries of feeling 
and faith, all the paradoxes of terrible destiny, and an 
equally terrible psychological conflict into his dramatic 
world-pictures : blending animation with grandeur and pro- 
fundity in themes felicitously selected, such as Attila or the 
Mother of the Maccabees. These works are excluded from 
the stage, to which they are peculiarly applicable, only by 
the over-flowing copiousness of their contents. This poet's 
earlier efforts reveal his inner struggle to press forward 
amid the throng of life to a higher intellectual calling. 

In a similarly earnest manner to that of Schiller, and in 
noble artistic emulation of his still greater contemporary, 
the leading tragic bard of Germany, our Austrian Heinrich 



384 COLLIN AND KOK1TEE. 

Collin, sought to perfect himself more and more in tragedy. 
Eor this species of composition he was eminently fitted by 
his fiery enthusiastic patriotism, pervading all his dramas so 
thoroughly as to render them truly national and patriotic, 
even when the subject is antique or at least foreign. The 
more recent tragic poets, who have written for the stage 
with successful, and, for a time, with splendid results, have 
nearly all relapsed into the heathen doctrine of necessity, 
and have vied with each other in delineations of horrible 
catastrophes. Intimately connected with these are those 
inflated caricatures of false grandeur introduced by Schiller's 
earlier efforts, and associated, even in his maturer produc- 
tions, with finished representations of real dignity of cha- 
racter. From so mistaken a path, however great the talents 
employed, little permanent advantage can be anticipated. 
The poems of Theodor Korner, his lyrics even more than 
his imperfect dramas, breathe a youthful freshness of life 
affecting our sensibilities the more that it was early 
quenched by death. 

But I feel I am approaching the limits of my under- 
taking. The variety of subjects now crowding around me in 
the living present is too vast, the picture of my own times 
is too full of a multiplicity of imagery, to admit of being 
treated historically, and briefly epitomized as the past. Let 
others, in an account of the characteristics of the times, re- 
cord my own exertions in the field of philosophy during 
thirty years, or my joint labours with my brother, 
A. W. Sehlegel, in the domains of poetry, art, criticism, 
general literature, and philology. In the course of these 
lectures it has been impossible for me to expatiate on many 
individual writers and works, in themselves sufficiently 
important but disturbing my plan as a whole, of which the 
main features were to take a survey of collective literature. 
If it were proposed to examine each distinct province into 
which the vast extent of German literature may be divided, 
according to the nature of its several contents, or even the 
foremost ones — to state what has hitherto been achieved in 
philosophy and religion, in history, poesy, criticism, or 
scenic composition, and what has been left undone, — each 
province would demand separate and detailed treatment. 

So much of the present as is connected with the past may 



PROSPECTS OE GERMAN LITERATURE. 3S5 

be historically comprehended. Not so that which is still in 
progress of formation, in external or internal conflict as yet 
undecided : the future would in that case be anticipated Dy- 
nasty judgment, as happiness and indistinct phenomena 
would often be so characterized as to mislead public opinion 
and baffle the development of talents and mental faculties. 

I clearly perceive the dawn of a new generation of intel- 
lect, and doubtless the nineteenth century will shed a lustre 
over our literature brighter than that of the preceding age. 
But the spirit and direction of this youthful progeny is not 
yet sufficiently developed to warrant our pronouncing upon 
its character. Much will be required at its hands, for it has 
inherited much. In regard to the collective whole of Ger- 
man literature, I do not for a moment doubt of its yet 
realizing the sanguine expectations it has hitherto promised 
without being able fully to answer them. I also perceive 
many disturbing causes. In art and poetry the false spirit 
of the antique, the mechanical imitation of ancient art and 
expression, are disappearing. On the other hand, there is 
an exaggerated imitation of predecessors, without any genu- 
ine views of the right course, and without individual power: 
there is an idle pretence, a frivolous jesting with the pro- 
founder secrets of reason and imagination, which previous 
masters handled in a very different tone, consciously or 
unconsciously making them subservient to struggling intel- 
lect in the process of development. In philosophy, too, the 
great majority have appropriated only the vapid system of 
world-construction and the dynamic play of varied ever- 
shifting theories of nature suggested by Schelling. Few 
will be disposed to take a very deep interest in the new 
undecided development and changed direction of the mind 
inwardly, They will continue to be satisfied with the exter- 
nal rind and form : so long as the old structure of a previous 
system remains entire they will not have the slightest notion 
of the possibility of its being animated by a new spirit. 

Others remarking the great division in German philosophy 
and literature thought that their appearance as mediators 
between contending systems would both remedy the evil and 
establish a position for themselves. Merely to reject and 
ignore conflicting extremes by mediation of this sort cannot 
produce a positive or new state of things : it can scarcely 
ensure lasting terms of peac«. 

2 c 



386 PROSPECTS OF OERMAN literature. 

But perhaps the period is no longer remote when the ques- 
tion of development will not be that of individual writers so 
much as of the entire nation : when writers will no longer 
have to create a public ; but the nation will cultivate its own 
authors according to its peculiar mental exigencies and 
aspirations. In this direction, likewise, the first footsteps of 
progress are sufficiently apparent. As German literature 
has visibly improved since the middle of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, if not in the number of artistically perfect productions, 
at all times rare, yet in comprehensive extension, prolific 
ideas, and internal energy : so also, considerable advance has 
been effected in the influences of literature and their general 
appreciation. Out of the little band of scattered dilettanti 
and patrons of national art and language with which the liter- 
ature of that era began, a public has been gradually formed. 
At first they were mere spectators of sectarian contests : but 
their ranks continued to extend, the interest they took 
became even livelier ; so that now, even in reference to 
literature, it is hardly a paradox to talk of German nation- 
ality, its genius and character, its aspirations and its wants. 

The spirit of sectarianism, however deeply rooted in Ger- 
many, has evidently decreased of late. Of those sects that 
have exercised the greatest amount of influence in this coun- 
try during the second half of the last century, and have, 
accordingly, gained for themselves a name in history, the 
Illuminati seemingly recede into the background on the 
accession of a profounder philosophy : the followers of Kant 
soon grew as tired of their lifeless formulas as the world had 
long been : whilst natural philosophers attained to that great 
and happy variety which all but emancipated them from the 
restrictive fetters of sectarianism. I would not be under- 
stood to say that the old leaven of false enlightenment is 
altogether cast out. The formulas of Kant, likewise, have 
occasionally endeavoured to gain a surreptitious hold in a 
novel disguise, but they never struck deep root. In part 
this remark is applicable to the inferior class of natural phi- 
losophers whose want of union, and whose disunion and 
aberrations, significantly prove that the right course has not 
yet been generally entered. They likewise teach us that in 
the domains of the inner world and of thought, the circling 
planets of human systems and science still hesitate to render 



CHARACTERISTICS OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 387 

the necessary implicit obedience, and to take their prescribed 
course around the sun of truth. 

Upon the whole, sectarianism has latterly grown milder : 
at least, it has thrown off its narrow scholastic trammels into 
the real world ; it has prepared itself to enter on the national 
struggle of German intellect. Not to make this acknow- 
ledgment were unfair. 

But down to the most recent time the distinguishing 
characteristic of our literature, as of our nation, is that of a 
state of conflict : how often soever individuals and parties, 
the principle contested and the arena of contention, may 
shift and change. 

It will scarcely be necessary to recall the conflicting cir- 
cumstances under which our modern literature appeared 
since its first epoch : the offspring, as it were, of contest. 
The conflict first lay between the Swiss, who exclusively 
admired the English and ancient schools of poetry and criti- 
cism, and the Saxons, whose culture was moulded entirely 
after French tastes : then between the serious and playful 
poets, the followers of Klopstock or of Wieland : on another 
field, in nearer affinity to philosophy, was fought the battle 
of the so-called Orthodox party and the sect of Illuminati, 
a battle which enlisted the sympathies of the German public 
in behalf of one or other of the parties. The contest assumed 
a more important character during the Kantian period of 
philosophy, when the respective advocates of Ideal and of 
Empiric doctrine, in its extended signification, divided the 
empire of intellect. Both parties were, in a certain sense, 
victorious : Empiric doctrine having maintained her rights 
not only in public influence on the multitude, nor in history 
and art alone, but also in natural philosophy and science. 
"Whilst, if the Ideal system be, in a general sense, held to be 
that which is directed to the Ideal, and proceeding from 
ideas, soars far above all sensuous experience, this ideal view 
of things, in all branches of art and science, has become so 
prevalent that scarcely any one can now venture to gainsay 
its influence: however much these several views may differ 
among themselves and each other according to the proposed 
Ideal. One of the chief causes contributing to the termina- 
tion of this memorable contest was the circumstance that the 
Idealists, or those who contended for the superiority of ideas 



388 PROSPECTS OF GERMAIN" LITERATURE. 

over empiricism, became disunited : its more eminent advo- 
cates feeling that they had no longer to combat generalities, 
but a real power, a spirit acting incessantly for evil, a genius 
of wickedness. The incomparably greater struggle that 
might have been expected to issue in the political and intel- 
lectual world generally, has not yet appeared in full array. 
In the narrower confines of exoteric science, the contest 
between Idealism and Empiricism took a new turn since the 
ever- widening discoveries of psychology have induced com- 
plete recognition of spiritualism, by means of astounding 
facts that distance mere ideal conjecture. Thus the con- 
flict between ideas and reality has ceased to possess an 
interest for scientific men, and will in future have to find a 
fresh theme or assume a new form. In the exoteric domains 
of general literature, the old contest between existing con- 
ditions and novel demands, the given and the required, 
eventually shrank into humble proportions, degenerating into 
a mere sham -fight. Of this sort is the imaginary opposition 
between a Golden Age and a so-called New School, x^s I 
iiave previously observed, German literature has no proper 
Golden Age : neither can I as yet observe anything that 
deserves to be called a New School. The term actually 
represents the exaggerations of a few imitators enthralled by 
ideas not their own, whose aberrations are unjustly fastened 
upon the originators of these same ideas in order to ridicule 
them the more readily. But of a school, in the acceptation 
of the word as urged in reference to the Greek philosophers 
or the Italian painters, and designating the permanent 
establishment of definite principles of art or science, and 
their recognition by successive generations, few traces can 
be found within the sphere of German intellect : moreover, 
the number of those disciples who could ever hope to be- 
come masters is very limited. It must be borne in mind, 
too, that almost every eminent scholar now shapes his 
own course, and individualism becomes more and more pre- 
valent. 

Equally futile w T as the dispute that occurred some time 
since between North-German and South- German literature 
and genius, arousing the most hateful passions of all the old 
provincial dislikes and fancies. But the interests involved in 
the mental struggle of Germany were more momentous than 



FICHTE. 389 

a mere temporary dispute among the respective leaders of 
two fashionable cliques. 

If we .consider this memorable contest in its entire influ- 
ence on the eighteenth century generally, not in Germany 
alone, but throughout England, Trance, and the rest of 
Europe, and try to ascertain the significant connection of 
this phenomenon with universal history, we shall find the 
solution somewhat as follows : — The question at issue was 
not confined to the locality of its immediate appearance : it 
was raised by a great internal agitation of the human intel- 
lect generally. 

The unbridled licentiousness of reason and thought, and the 
revival of the Imagination which had been so long oppressed 
by pseudo-science and stagnant life-formulas, constitute at 
once the moving causes and the portentous results of these 
manifold commotions. In Erance, despotic and disorganizing 
Reason, repudiating faith and love, displayed her destructive 
effects outwardly, and rendered national life a terrible 
example to present and future ages. "Whilst in Germany, 
in keeping with the national character, absolute Eeason, 
externally moderate in the application of her noblest ener- 
gies, turned the channel of her activity inwards ; instead of 
exciting revolutions she created and destroyed only meta- 
physical systems. Traces of the second phenomenon of the 
age, namely, the reawakening of dormant Imagination which, 
having been all but extinct and forgotten in a super-rational 
world, was as it were rediscovered— are found scattered over 
other countries also in the revival of olden legend and roman- 
tic poetry, apparently without external inducements. But 
in equal degree, and corresponding extent, fancy was nowhere 
else aroused in so manifold and varied a compass of develop- 
ment ; such a phenomenon has never occurred in any other 
nation. « 

Of all German philosophers, Eichte furnishes the clearest 
evidence of the delusive and destructive workings of absolute 
Eeason, free from all restraint in the exercise of her internal 
agency, in a powerful masculine intellect. JNot only on 
account of his masterly invention in all faculties of thought, 
so peculiarly and eminently his own, but also since he 
proposed to derive from himself alone all the materials of 
thought, despising nature and undervaluing his predecessors. 



390 TIECK. 

But of the poets who mainly assisted in the regeneration of 
German Imagination, not one is equally meritorious with 
Tieck : he possesses the master-key that unlocks her deepest 
recesses, and is initiated in all her wonders and mysteries. 

The century has reached this its utmost limit as regards 
reason and fancy : it has proceeded no further on the whole. 
Let us not forget that to halt is to relapse, and that, having 
inherited so great a profundity of reason, which we have 
explored, and so bright a splendour of reawakened Imagina- 
tion, we must add firmness of will and purpose, which con- 
tains the beginning and end of all good, and is alone able to 
save us from degeneracy : next, by clear perception, and cor- 
rect views, for whose complete establishment and harmoni- 
ous culture profound reason and a rich imagination are but 
separate elements, which of themselves can never lead to 
desirable results. Knowledge is, in all things, based on a 
survey of the whole, and on the discernment of what is 
right. 

It has been my object in the course of these lectures, to 
point to this connexion of parts to the whole of literature at 
every opportunity, and to convey a true idea of the collective 
products of the intellect. As in my former efforts, so in the 
present, I have desired to assist in arriving at a complete 
and discriminating knowledge of good and evil, in literature 
too, without the aid of oratorical arts. 

A fresh contest has sprung up with a new epoch; the 
great moral changes that have taken place of late years set 
the intellectual character of the age in a new light, and 
materially serve to define its form. The intrusion of the 
political differences of other countries on our literature, may 
not at first sight seem to be any direct accession. For some 
years past we have been deluged by a flood of liberal ephe- 
meral productions, pamphlets, and tracts of every descrip- 
tion, covering every spot like an army of locusts, and leaving 
scarcely any room for sterling works of a serious nature. If 
under these circumstances, only a Goerres has been able to 
command attention and make his voice heard above the hum 
of buzzing insects all around, his name must stand, in the 
stead of many more, as that of a worthy champion of Ger- 
man character and merit. The evil was a temporary one : it 



CHAEACTEETSTICS OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 391 

were a much more serious injury if the defenders of the 
good cause, of lawful justice and Christian truth had, during 
the continuance of the contest, been led away by exaggera- 
ted passion, and adapted to the ultra-tone of foreign writers. 
This tone is, once for all, not suited to the Grerman genius, 
and only calculated to damage good impressions by bitter 
hostility of sentiment or expression. Every diiference of 
opinion in Germany, be it philosophical or political, sooner 
or later reopens the old wounds of our religious feud that 
has now existed for three centuries. But who is there that 
does not feel the propriety of delicate treatment as regards 
the inner religious feeling of individuals as a matter of con- 
science and something sacred, which must be treated with 
the greatest forbearance ? This moderation, so far from 
necessarily arguing lukewarmness, is rather referable to 
conscientiousness, and may be combined with the greatest 
decision: this will be evident to all, and influence those 
most who have attained to a clear and certain belief of the 
Truth. Let us leave then, all ultraism in religion and poli- 
tics to foreign nations ; even the hatred of Christianity, so 
revolting a characteristic of the lowest section of the liberal 
party — here and there even in Germany — cannot be overcome 
by hatred in return, the only effects of which would be to 
cast a stigma on the purity of Christian truth and righteous- 
ness. In reference to political periodicals, which we could 
not well refrain from mentioning, it should be borne in mind 
that this peculiar direction of intellectual and literary acti- 
vity, though new to the spirit and, in the long run, scarcely 
congenial to the taste of Germany, was not without advan- 
tageous results to our more recent national history: suggest- 
ing many historical compositions of distinguished excellence, 
and laying the foundation of German patriotic union worthy 
of the cause and of the country. The conviction is now 
tolerably common to well-disposed members of all parties, 
and has assumed something like definite certainty in the 
eyes of the majority, that the sheet-anchor in the turbulent 
sea of conflicting opinions and interests, is to be found in 
positive principles : whereby alone a chaotic state of things 
can be restored to harmonious organic order. It were idle 
to look for this sheet-anchor, for the purposes of daily life, 
politics, or science, in a mere earthly positive, of whatever 



392 PRESENl STATE OF GERMAN LITERATURE. 

sort, unless blended with a Divine positive, the upholding 
connecting vitality to the entire system. And where else are 
we to inquire after this Divine Principle but in the quarter 
long vouchsafed to us : in religion, divine revelation, and in 
Christian philosophy, as the correct copy of these in a scien- 
tific form for universal practical application ? All that con- 
sciously or unconsciously tends to this aim, co-operating 
therewith in design and spirit from whatever source, is good, 
commendable, and salutary. Eminent Protestants have 
recently acknowledged and vindicated the divine origin of 
the Bible and the Divinity of Christ in a peculiar and some- 
what novel way ; this is only an additional testimony to the 
truth and an earnest of its triumph. Of course, the whole 
question of a Divine positive, and the conviction that it, 
namely Christianity, exclusively affords the materials of 
intellectual and moral peace, brings us back to the old rup- 
ture in German faith. But as the evil originated here, so 
here it must be remedied. The fondly desired yet vainly 
sought reconciliation of our creed cannot, indeed, be attained 
by the ordinary means of human mediation : this is to be 
effected neither by mutual well-meant concessions nor by 
diplomatic treaty : it is altogether beyond the reach of 
human toil, and must emanate from God who, in due time, 
will fill with the power of his Holy Spirit his chosen instru- 
ments. As far as human means are concerned, we can only 
contribute to the accomplishment of the divine design, by 
throwing off that lukewarmness and half-heartedness which 
so frequently prevents us from taking the decisive step in a 
recognition of the truth. Many are the features, too signi- 
ficant to escape observation, announcing the near approach 
of that great period of reconciliation, which we dare no 
longer conceal. This, too, is the proper place for its mention, 
inasmuch as we have been engaged in pursuing intellectual 
life through the several stages of its development in all time. 
Por, in reality, what more is wanting to the German mind 
than to rescue from chaotic dispersion and to concentrate all 
its active fermenting energies, and thus to found a truly 
German school, the comprehensive essence of all intellectual 
culture. And where could the necessary element, harmony, 
be more surely found than in that sublime religious peace ? 
I have been desirous, throughout, not to take exclusively 



CO'CLTTSIOX. 393 

critical, philological, or artistic views of literature and philo- 
sophy. It has, rather, been my design to trace the whole 
of intellectual life through its development and progress 
among the foremost nations of antiquity, and of modern 
Europe in successive ages. Thus to produce an historically 
adequate impression of the vast empire of intellect, com- 
prising the loftier culture of man, or all knowledge, repre- 
sentation, investigation, and art, which language — written 
or spoken — is instrumental in couveying. This empire of 
intellect, in its position of counterpart to Church and State, 
and in its manifold relations to both, is comprehended in the 
term scholastic, often met with in these pages. 

In order that the whole results, as affecting the present 
epoch may be more clearly understood, let us, in conclusion, 
cast another glance over the entire series of our representa- 
tions. There are, especially, four bonds serving to unite the 
family of mankind and direct their movements : correspond- 
ing with the diversified nature of the motive power of each 
subordinate sphere ; a four-fold manner or form obtains in 
every human association. To begin with the lowest step, 
there is first, the power of money and commerce, extending 
through all states, and scattered over the whole of the civi- 
lized world : bringing its remotest parts into manifold con- 
tact, and often exercising important effects on intellectual 
culture. This species of connection, in its widest sense and 
in reference to universal history, is styled the Guild. With 
this we are but little concerned on the present occasion. The 
next and mightiest of all is the power of the sword or the 
State ; but the Sword of Justice ,is not to wage war as its 
final purpose, but to maintain peace at home and abroad : 
which is unattainable unless genuine moral and intellectual 
peace be based on religion, sound principle, and genuine 
mental culture. The third of these four great powers is 
that of Divine grace, with which every priestly office and 
ecclesiastical communion generally are connected : it is by 
these means that inner peace is secured, and external peace 
receives its highest sanction. To what purpose would collec- 
tive material life serve, whose j ust privileges the State gua- 
rantees, and which is so richly adorned by the culture of the 
. trade, and commerce, if it were not the basis of a 
her intellectual existence? But this intellectual exist- 



394 conclusion. 

ence, an inheritance common to humanity, is more imme- 
diately fostered by the agency of religion and of the Church, 
whose exalted function it is to reunite nations long severed 
by interests of state-policy, and to link together all the 
family of mankind in loving brotherhood. Intellectual life is, 
likewise, perpetuated by scholastic learning, and propagated 
from one age to another ; and this fourth bond of union 
stands in manifold and intimate relations with the Church 
and the State. There have been ages wherein all human 
art and knowledge were one with divine ; but in others par- 
ticularly during the last three centuries, scholastic learning 
has appeared. in marked separation from the Church, and 
then the State undertakes to control its energies. But if 
the State neglect or pervert this responsibility, like any 
other free institution, learning becomes dependent on pub- 
lic patronage and prevalent tastes, and is on that very 
account liable to the influences of private advantage or 
some species of pecuniary interest securing its outward ex- 
istence. I have, previously had frequent occasion to men- 
tion the varied effects of these threefold dependencies of 
learning, more particularly the injurious results of the Inst 
named, I need not now, therefore, dwell upon them. In 
this invisible empire of thought and intellectual union, 
bearing sway through all ages, and whose sceptre is trans- 
mitted in regular succession, the power of speech, man's 
distinguished characteristic, appears in manifold phases 
• of poetry and knowledge. Inquiry into the history ot 
universal mental culture has almost everywhere shewn that 
art, history, science, are. but so many developments, illus- 
trations, or figurative applications of the imperishable 
Word of Divine revelation. If we contemplate the tree of 
collective art, knowledge, and scientific tradition, with its 
branches, through all ages and tongues, through all grada- 
tions of mental culture and of religion, we find that we can 
trace its ramifications, more especially to ten nations. Our 
eye is first captivated by the verdant meads and flowery 
fields of Greek legend and art, the conspicuous beginning of 
all mental culture. But in exploring its hidden sources, we 
are carried further back into oriental regions, where the 
stupendous monuments of Hindostan, the gigantic ruins and 
primeval crags of which stand forth as the relics of a former 



CONCLUSION. 395 

world, meet our -wondering gaze. On the firmest rock of this 
primordial world, Closes laid the foundations of the temple 
of Hebrew prophecy, the glory of which irradiated the olden 
poetic and sacred tradition of Persia with a kindred refulgence, 
as far as it can be discerned amid the impure admixtures of 
Arab creed. Both elements of mental culture, as well the 
Greek as the Oriental, after passing through the earnest Ro- 
man world, flow into Christian ages, in which a new living stem 
of noble intellect, grafted on the old northern stock, has shot 
forth with great vigour and effect among the four most 
cultivated nations of the "West— the Italians, the French, 
the Spaniards, and the English — in poetry and criticism, in 
arts of every kind, and in philosophy both true and false. 
But the German mind forms the connecting bond of this 
intellectual development of the four great Romanic nations ; 
inasmuch as it has been the common root of the whole 
phase of the new Christian Life, and the cause and main- 
stay of the great intellectual burst throughout Europe; 
indeed, it may be considered the key-stone of the arch. 
Germany, though once the arena of dissent, now sheds the 
light of religion over other countries. The spiritual culture 
of those four nations rests on what we have already more 
than once characterised as the four elementary powers of 
common objective perception; accordingly, we see in the 
Italians, imagination and a love of art ; in the Erench, 
reason and oratory; in the English, keen perception and 
historic powers ; and in the Spaniards, intense nationality 
and poetical feeling. But the German mind explores the 
more profound hidden springs of the inner life, where those 
elementary forces no longer appear disunited, but the entire 
power of living consciousness, both in thought and act, 
proceeds from one common root. Even here, not very long 
since, those heights and depths of reason and imagination, 
with a consideration of which we closed our present in- 
quiries, were in a state of severed isolation. But the great 
turning point is already distinctly visible in the regions of 
psychology, at which both of these elements will blend with- 
out losing any of their vital force, and whence a permanent 
and historical spiritualism will embrace all the spheres of 
intellectual life. This new direction of the mind in a recog- 
nition of the Invisible, will be more important in its results 



396 CONCLUSION. 

than the discovery, three centuries ago, of a quarter of the 
globe, of a true physical system, or of any other momentous 
subject. The intellectual problem of the age, to be worked 
out according to the bent of the German miud, is a complete 
recognition of the eternal Word, valid for all time and re- 
flected throughout the entirety of temporal science and 
art: this idea being in close affinity with the reunion and 
reconciliation of faith as well as of knowledge before men- 
tioned. This reunion of knowledge, which we cannot as yet 
designate by any other term than that of Christian philo- 
sophy, is not to be contrived after the fashion of a system or 
a sect, but must grow as a living tree from the root of reve- 
lation acknowledged as Divine. Universal history and my- 
thology, the empire of language and of physics, poetry and 
art, are but scattered rays of this one luminary of the highest 
knowledge. AVhen this Luminary bursts forth in the glory 
of meridian splendour, the glimmering torch of Pantheism 
will recede into the shade, before the awful presence of re- 
gained Truth and a Divine positive. Then, too, reflecting 
inquirers of every kind will more correctly estimate the real 
progress of the times, thoroughly distinct from that which 
the world calls the spirit of the age. Distinguished facul- 
ties will no longer continue in a state of dreamy exist- 
ence, where they have slumbered for years, or start up 
from chimerical reveries as though they had been uncon- 
scious of the lapse of one or two generations. The domains 
of high art, likewise, may be expected to be invigorated by a 
new breath of life : the false phantasmagoria of distorted 
tragedy giving place to the exalted poetry of truth, which, 
instead of describing, with limited play of imagination, the 
legend of any single age or race, shall hymn the story of 
eternal love, and the mysteries of the soul veiled in the alle- 
gories of a world of spirits. Upon the whole, that Lumi- 
nary's rays are not to be confined to individual regions of 
mental culture ; endowments and talents the most varied 
will have to contribute to the regeneration and growth, to 
the complete development of the tree of life. Just as the 
glory ot the Creator is promoted throughout the vast realms 
of creation by the several graduated agencies of nature ; re- 
spectively ministering and co-operating, disporting in child- 
ish glee, seeking and loving, or illumining ; so in the little 



CONCLUSION. 397 

world of man, created after the image of the whole, the same 
four-fold degree of inferior and superior natures is clearly 
visible in its spiritual centre, the department of intellectual 
life and action. Hence we have never omitted in our in- 
quiries, to pourtray, in a spirit of historic truth, insignifi- 
cant matters, side by side with more important on:s, whenever 
they tended to promote the development and completeness of 
the whole. This conception of the several gradations of intel- 
lectual nature may, at the same time, suggest a standard 
whereby each individual topic, lowly or exalted, good or evil, 
discussed in the course of these investigations, may be cor- 
rectly estimated in reference to its intrinsic worth. 



399 



INDEX. 



Abelard, characteristics of, 
168. 

Abraham, 97. 

Achilles, the grave of, 19 ; 
contrasted with Ulysses, 
19, 20 ; his resemblance to 
Tancred and liichard, 184. 

Adam, 93. 

Addison, his tragedies, 314. 

Adelung, 354. 

iEneid, character of the, 72. 

JEschylus, distinguished as a 
warrior, 23 ; character of 
his genius, 25, 34 ; con- 
trasted with Sophocles and 
Aristophanes, 34 ; his pro- 
found feeling, 269. 

JEsculapius, votive offering 
by Socrates to, 46. 

Afrasiabj contest of Peridun 
with, 183. 

Agamemnon, dynasty of, 18. 

Ages, the golden, silver, and 
brazen, 36. 

Akbar, the Emperor, 121. 

Albertus Magnus, 234. 

Alemanni, memorials of the, 
169, 170. 

Alexander, his reign and con- 
quests, 17, 52, 75 ; endea- 
vours to extirpate the Magi, 
92 ; his invasion of India, 
113, 124 i mentioned in In- 



dian records, 121 ; his ex- 
ploits a theme for poetry, 
184. 

Alexandria, the seat of litera- 
ture, 23, 52. 

Alexandrines, irregular, use of, 
62. 

Alfieri, productions of, 368. 

Alfred, an early patron of 
literature, 139, 167; de- 
scended from Odin, 149. 

Allegory, one of the principal 
forms of Biblical represen- 
tation, 101, 103 ; Christian, 
270. 

Alphabet, the Greek, derived 
from the Phoenicians, 12 ; 
the Indian, 122 ; the Runic, 
151. 

Amadis, the, 246. 

Amali, the, 147, 148. 

America, its discovery, 214 ; 
its conquest, 215. 

Aminta, a Pastoral, by Tasso, 
253. 

Amshaspands, the seven invi- 
sible powers in the Persian 
mythology, 91. 

Anaiagoras, doctrines of, 41. 

Ancients, philosophv of the, 
41. 

Andronicus, his translation of 
the Odyssey, 57. 



400 



INDEX, 



Anglo-Saxon language and 
literature, 168. 

Anselmus, his erudition, 168. 

Anthemius, a distinguished 
architect, 146. 

Antiquity, the study of, 245. 

Antonines, the, 79. 

Antoninus Pius, 80, 137. 

Aphorism, one form of Bibli- 
cal representation, 101 ; its 
use in Sanscrit Literature, 
119. 

Apollonius, the Argonauts of, 
52. 

Arabian poetry, 181. 

Arabs, 3 ; their old songs, 19 ; 
poetry and tales of the, 180, 
181; pillaged Alexandria, 
162 ; introduced the study 
of the mathematics, astrolo- 
gy, and alchemy into Eu- 
rope, 230 ; their factions in 
Spain, 247. 

Archimedes, skill of, 56. 

Architecture, Indian, ancient 
monuments of, 107 ; old 
German mediaeval, 146 ; 
style of, 190. 

Argonauts, expedition of the, 
36, 52. 

Ariosto, his obligations to 
Boiardo, 205, 214 ; estima- 
tion held in bv Charles the 
Fifth, 248. 

Aristippus, doctrines of, 69. 

Aristophanes, character of his 
writings, 31 ; a great poet, 
32 ; his histories, ib. ; his 
exuberance of wit and poetic 
boldness, 33 ; apology for 
his poetic licence, 34 ; his 
capacity as a patriot, ib. ; 



grave charge against him, 
35. 

Aristotle, the representative of 
Philosophy as a science, 48, 
82 ; refined elegance of his 
writings, 49; his immense 
mental influence, ib. 59 ; his 
scientific severity, 79 ; spirit 
of his system, 84; the 
great master of empiric 
philosophy, 85 ; multitude 
of his followers, 86 ; com- 
pared with Plato, 87, 238 ; 
only one manuscript of his 
work preserved, 163 ; in- 
fluence of his philosophy in 
the Middle Ages, 231 ; 
Spain and Germany accept 
his tenets, 239 ; his con- 
ception of the nature of 
Tragedy, 284. 

Arrian, compared with Xeno- 
phon, 80. 

Art and Poetry, asylum for, 
245. 

Arthur and the Round Table, 
178, 188. 

Asciburgum, tradition re- 
specting, 150. 

Asen, the, 154. 

Asia, Central, the cradle of 
human civilization, 89. 

Asia Minor, conquests of Cy- 
rus in, 18. 

Astrology, belief in, 234. 

Atellan plays, 64. 

Athalie, by Racine, 284, 285, 
295. 

Atharvan Ved, the fourth 
Veda, 127. 

Atheism, fallacy of the theory 
of, 307. 



INDEX. 



401 



Athenian freedom, 60. 
Athens, the centre of G-recian 

culture, 17 ; its freedom, 

60. 
Atticus, lost tragedies of, 64. 
Attila, the warrior-king of 

Hungary, 147, 187, 224. 
Augustus, the happy sway of, 

64, 71, 74, 78. 
Aurelius, the Emperor, 80. 
Authors, squabbles of, 5. 
Ayeen-Akbery, the, 121. 

Babel, its historical impor- 
tance, 97, 

Babenberg, the House of, 187. 

Bacon, Lord, the father of 
modern physics, 286 ; his 
views respecting Nature, 
288, 289, 300, 334. 

Bacchus, festivals dedicated 
to, 33. 

Bagavadam, one of the eigh- 
teen Puranas, 120, 

Balder, death of, 155. 

Ballads, ancient Spanish ones, 
194, 196 ; old English and 
North European, 220. 

Barbarians, endowed with a 
vigorous comprehension, 8. 

Barbarossa, 167, 186: en- 
feoffed Count Berengar, 
193. 

Basedow, views of, 370. 

Basil, 136. 

Bayle, scepticism of, 335. 

Bela, King of Hungary, 223. 

Bencerrajas, The, an Arabian 
tribe in Spain, 247. 

Berkeley, Bishop, his religious 
belief, 321. 



Bhagavatgita, an Indian 
Poem, translated by "Wil- 
kins, 122, 127. 

Bible, spirit of the, 100 ; its 
structure, 140 ; its transla- 
tion into Latin, 142, 144 ; 
Gothic translation of it by 
Ulphilas,147; its simplicity, 
199 ; its literary influence, 
ib. ; its typical and symbo- 
lic element, 200 ; German 
version of it, 339; its divine 
origin, 392. 

Bird, the widowed one, 119. 

Boccacio, fictions of, 193 ; his 
attempts to combine the 
heathen mythology with 
Christianity, 197 ; his fond- 
ness for allegory, 204. 

Bodmer, a German poet, 350. 

Bcehmen, Jacob, the Teuto- 
nic philosopher, Charles I. 
of England, one of his fol- 
lowers, 241 ; characteristics 
of his philosophy, ib. 242, 
343 ; his vigorous style, 
344. 

Bohemia, its literature under 
Charles IV, 222, 

Boiardo, obligations of Ari- 
osto to, 205. 

Boileau, his defects as a critic, 
283, 284. 

Bonald, his Christian philoso- 
phy, 326 ; errors of, 328. 

Bonnet, zeal of, 304. 

Boscan, a Spanish poet, 248. 

Bossuet, eloquence of, 294 ; 
his superiority as a writer 
and orator, 296, 313 ; gran- 
deur of his style, ib. 

D 



402 



INDEX. 



Brachmans and Samaneans, 
two Indian sects, 113 — 124. 

Brahma, 38, 90, 114. 

Brandenburg, the Ducal 
House of, 346. 

Bruno, Archbishop of Co- 
logne, 164. 

Bruno, Giordano, 240. 

Brutus, 61, 65. 

Bucolics, or Pastoral poetry, 
54. 

Buddha, the religion of, 123. 

Buffon, 303 ; compared with 
Eousseau, 312. 

Burger, the German poet,360. 

Burgundy, 186. 

Burke, Edmund, his political 
sagacity and experience, 
329 ; on the French Revo- 
lution, 392. 

Byron, character of his poetry, 
315. 

Byzantine Empire, 165. 

Caesar, works of, 60 ; his lucid 
brevity, 70; his promotion 
of literature, 77 ; his atten- 
tion to the Latin tongue, 
347. 

Cain, and his curse-marked 
race, 96. 

Calderon, the great Spanish 
poet, 264, 265 ; the most 
Christian of dramatic poets, 
267 ; his characteristics, 
268, 270 ; compared with 
Shakspere, 271, 276. 

Calidas, the flowery verse of, 
118. 

Callimachus, a poetic mytho- 
logist, 52. 

Calvin, genius of, 291. 



Camillus, his liberation of 
Rome from the Gauls, 
62. 

Camoens, 207 ; his Lusiad, 
251; compared to Tasso and 
Ariosto, 254. 

Capila, the Sankhya doctrine 
attributed to, 125. 

Carey (AY.) his translation of 
the Bamayan, 109. 

Carthaginians, their litera- 
ture, 57. 

Castille, the Province of, 246 ; 
the poetry of, 247. 

Castillejo, 172. 

Catholic Countries, the poetry 
of, 246. 

Cato, the elder, a foe to Greek 
Arts, 56 ; his study of his- 
tory, 77. 

Cervantes, his surpassing 
genius, 257 ; his prose 
works, ib. 258 ; his imita- 
tors, 311. 

Chapelain, his Maid of Or- 
leans, 281. 

Charlemagne, songs collected 
by his orders, 148 ; his pro- 
motion of the Greek lan- 
guage, 164 ; alluded to, 139, 
147, 177, 222, 230, 235. 

Charles 1Y. King of Bohemia, 
222. 

Charles of Yiane, 246. 

Chateaubriand, romances of, 
311 ; his work on Chris- 
tianity, 324. 

Chaucer, his talents and at- 
tainments, 193, 273. 

Chinese, their polity and 
manners, 90 ; extolled by 
Yoltaire, 305. 



INDEX. 



403 



Chosru, 183. 

Chriemhild, 187. 

Christianity, its contests 
with heathenism, 81, 134 ; 
its relation to social life, 
128 ; compared with Hin- 
dooism, 129—131; its dis- 
semination in India, 133 ; 
its progress, 134; its in- 
fluence on European Na- 
tions, 139, 143 ; changes 
produced by its introduc- 
tion, 145 ; viewed in rela- 
tion to the fine arts, 146 ; 
compared with the religion 
of the Persians, 183 ; mys- 
teries of, 201 ; its influence 
on poetry, ib. 267 : its re- 
lation to mediaeval philo- 
sophy and mysticism, 233 ; 
its first teachers men of the 
people, 240 ; blended with 
poetry, 267 ; mythological 
interpretation of it by the 
French infidels, 307. 

Chronicles, Monkish, 167. 

Chrysostoin, 136. 

Cicero, the works of, 60, 63 ; 
dignity of his orations, 68 ; 
his pursuits and studies, 
69 ; unequal in form and. 
diction, 70 ; public scienti- 
fic teaching promoted by, 
77, 163. 

Cid,poem of the, 194; abounds 
in comic passages, 195 ; 
the only great Spanish Epic, 
251, 255, 284, 354.. 363. 

Claudius, works of, 370. 

Colebrooke, his translations 
from the Sanskrit, 120, 121. 

Columbus, 214. 



Collin, Heinrich, the Austrian 

poet, 384. 
Comedy, its original function, 

33. 
Commines, Memoirs of, 279. 
Compass, discovery of the, 

209, 214. 
Confucius, 90. 

Conscience, the voice of, 130. 
Consonants, pure, 105. 
Constantine, the Emperor, 

reign of, 134. 
Conventual System, the, 166. 
Coriolanus, the history of, 

61, 65. 
Corneille, his poem of the Cid, 

194, 255,2S2, 283,284, 295, 

354, 363 ; alluded to, 251. 
Corvin, Matthias, a warlike 

Hungarian King, 224. 
Coxe, the historian, 318. 
Creasy, Professor, his Eifteen 

Decisive Battles of the 

World, 224. 
Critias, 45. 
Croesus, 18. 
Cromwell, Oliver, 229. 
Crusades, the, 175 ; their in- 
fluence on Literature, 180, 

209. 
Curiatii, the, 61. 
Cyrus, 18, 47. 

Daemon, of Socrates, 45. 

Danish Literature, 221. 

Dante, 189 ; the masterpiece 
of, 197 ; a great poet, 198 ; 
characteristics of his poetry, 
202 ; attached to the Ghi- 
belline party, 203 ; com- 
pard with Petrarch and 
Boccacio, 201 : a national 



404 



INDEX. 



writer, 249; graphic force 
of, 266 ; a truly Christian 
poet, 268, 343. 

Darius, 18. 

David, 94. 

Dead, Egyptian treatment of 
the, 109 ; custom of burn- 
ing the, 110; and of em- 
balming, ib. 

Deity, allegorical representa- 
tions of the, 38. 

Democritus, 42. 

Demosthenes, influence of, 17. 

Denis, a learned Jesuit, 356. 

Denmark, progress of litera- 
ture in, 221. 

Descartes, system of, 291 ; his 
discrimination between spi- 
rit and matter, 292 ; his 
proof of the existence of 
God, 293 ; his followers, 
294 ; alluded to, 334—338. 

Dessatix, or prophetic books 
of the ancient Persians, 107. 

Diderot, his fanatical hatred 
of Christianity, 307, 311, 
363. 

Diocletian, 134. 

Don Carlos, by Schiller, 382. 

Don Quixote, one of the best 
productions of the epic 
muse, 257, 258. 

Dorians, 23, 24. 

Drama, true business of the, 
265 ; its legitimate objects, 
270 ; the French, 310 ; the 
Italian, 316. 

Dramatic Art, 50; remarks 
on its nature and design, 
265. 

Dschemschid, 92, 182. 



Durer. Albrecht, 228. 
Dutch, their progress in lite- 
rature, 344. 

Eclectic Schools, 49. 
Eclogues of Virgil, 72. 
Edda, the, or Icelandic poems, 

107, 154, 220, 349. 
Eginhard, 167. 
Egyptians, a sacerdotal people, 

13 ; their monuments, 90 ; 

their architecture, 108 ; 

their practice of embalming, 

110. 
Eleusinian mysteries, 25. 
Empedocles, 48. 
English language, cultivation 

of the, 3, 171 ; poetry, 

273-278. 
Ennius, tendency of . his 

poems, 63, 64 ; school of 

Roman poetry introduced 

by, 77, 
Enoch, 93. 
Epics, legendary, of different 

nations, 73 ; Indian, 108. 
Epicurus, 49, 66 ; on the pur- 
suit of pleasure, 69 ; philo- 
sophy of, 238. 
Ercilla, his epic of the Arau- 

cana, 250. 
Eschenbach, "Wolfram von, 

compared with Dante, 189. 
Esther, book of, 98. 
Ethiopians, 110. 
Etruscans, their sacerdotal 

institutions, 13. 
Euclid, the great geometrician, 

56. 
Eumenides, the, 266. 
Euripides, an orator and 



INDEX. 



405 



poet, 28, 34, 49, 50 ; com- 
positions of, 50. 

Europe, modern, survey of its 
languages, 171. 

Eve, beguiled by the serpent, 
96. 

Evil, its origin on earth, 96. 

Fairy Queen, by Spenser, 

273. 
Faith of English philosophers, 

322. 
Fanaticism, a tendency to, 80. 
Faust, 266. 
Fenelon, beautiful style of, 

294. 
Ferdinand, surnamed the Ca- 
tholic, 246, 247, 248. 
Feridun, 182. 
Fichte, 369, 374, 380; his 

system of ideal reason, 378, 

389. 
Fielding, an imitator of Cer- 
vantes, 311. 
Firdusi, 118 ; his Persian 

Epics, 180. 
Flemming, a Silesian poet, 

345. 
Florence, its democratic 

spirit, 206. 
Fo, worship of, 123. 
Fox, compared with Hume, 

318. 
Franciad, the, 281. 
France, decline of poetry in, 

192 ; the lighter literature 

of, 308. 
Frederick I. of Germany, 

writers in the time of, 354. 
Frederick the Great, 224; 

neglect of German litera- 



ture during his reign, 347 ; 
exculpation of, ib. 

French, their historical me- 
moirs, 194, 279 ; character, 
212, 310; literature, 278; 
classic period of poetry,280; 
tragedy, remarks on, 282 ; 
supposed to be copied from 
the Greeks, 283 ; its form, 
ib. ; philosophy, 306 ; its 
return to the Platonic chris- 
tian philosophy, 326. 

Froude's history of England, 
229, 

Gama, the circumnavigator, 
251. 

Garcilaso, a Spanish poet, 
248; his merits, 250. 

Garve, style of, 366. 

Gautama-Buddha, the re- 
former of the old Bramah 
worship, 124 ; the Nyaya- 
doctrine attributed to, 126. 

Gay-Savoir, a kind of poetry, 
171-172. 

Gelon, the tyrant of Svracuse, 
91. 

Genesis, the wonderful book 
of, 96. 

Genius, in the uneducated, 
240. 

Georgics of Virgil, 72. 

German bardic songs, 148. 

German language, its innate 
riches, 2 ; its perfection 
and finish in the Nibe- 
lungen-lied, 157 ; its re- 
construction, 169 ; fusion of 
dialects in the, 170 ; its re- 
vival under Frederick I., 



406 



INDEX. 



186 ; its degeneracy, 208 ; 
contrasted with the French, 
212 ; difficult of acquisi- 
tion, 21 8 ; its copiousness 
and adaptation to philoso- 
phy, 219 ; rich in popular 
lays and poems, 342 ; fun- 
damental law of its pro- 
nunciation, 352. 

German literature, modern, 
356, 357—359; the first 
founders of, 360 ; its sub- 
sequent progress, ib. 

G-erman love-songs, 173-174. 

German versification, 352 ; 
its real essence, 353. 

Germany, the Civil Wars of, 
66 ; remains of paganism in, 
153 ; appreciation of Shak- 
spere in, 276, 363. 

Gervinus, his Introduction to 
the History of the Nine- 
teenth Century, 211. 

Gessner, the German poet, 
his popularity, 350. 

Ghibellines, their intolerant 
severity, 203. 

Gibbon, his style, 318. 

Gita Govinda, a Sanscrit Ec- 
logue, 120. 

Giudici, Signor, his history 
of Italian literature, 206. 

Gleim, a German poet, 346. 

Gnomic Bards, 101. 

God, knowledge of, 94; a 
firm belief in, advocated, 
213 ; proof of his existence, 
293 ; faithful obedience to 
his will inculcated, 341. 

Godfrey of Bouillon, 180. 

Gods, notions of the, 37. 



Goethe, genius of, 360, 361 ; 
popularity of his works, 
380 ; influence of his writ- 
ings, 382. 

Goetz Von Berlichingen, with 
the iron hand, 362. 

Golden Age, so called, of Ger- 
man literature, 354. 

Goldoni, his portraiture of 
life, 316. 

Goldsmith, his Vicar of Wake- 
field, 312. 

Gongora, 264. 

Gothic Architecture, 146, 
189, 190, 191. 

Gothic poetry, 147. 

Goths, their extinction, 148 ; 
accusation against the, 164 ; 
their career in Italy, 165. 

Gottsched, poems of, 354. 

Gozzi, his extravaganzas, 316. 

Greece, literature of, 11, 17, 

21, 55, 60; the philoso- 
phers of, 240. 

Greek language, the common 
medium of the civilized 
world, 56 ; its cultivation, 
164 ; Roman translations 
from the, 77. 

Greek Philosophy, the spirit 
of, 81. 

Greek poetry, development of 

22, 52. 

Greek Tumuli, 19. 

Greek writers, distinguished 
from the Eomans, 59. 

Greeks, wars of the, 15 ; de- 
generacy in their manners, 
32 ; their genius for philo- 
sophy, 41 ; their inventive 
spirit, 56 ; their commerce 



INDEX. 



407 



with India, 111, 113 ; their 
Erotic poets, 162. 

Grotius, Hugo, persecution 
of, 229 ; his beneficial doc- 
trine, 289 ; salutary influ- 
ence of his writings, 291. 

Guarini, the Italian poet, 255, 
256. 

Guilt, consciousness of, 130. 

Gunpowder, its use dis- 
covered, 214 ; considered a 
perilous and hurtful con- 
trivance, ib. 

Gymnosophists, or Indian Ee- 
cluses, 128. 

Hadrian, mental cultivation 
in the time of, 78 ; period 
of literature from, to Jus- 
tinian, 135. 

Hagedorn, a German poet, 
346. 

Haller, a German poet, 346, 

Hamann, J. G. his religious 
bias, 356 ; particulars re- 
specting, ib., 366, 367. 

Hamlet, 275. 

Harald Harfagr, 154. 

Hardenberg, or JSTovalis, 
writings of, 379. 

Harris, 316. 

Harun al Easchid, 166. 

Hebrew language, its charac- 
ter, 104, 105. 

Hebrew Scriptures, 98, 100. 

Hebrews, their faith and 
manners, 88 ; their pre- 
eminence, 93 ; their sacred 
writings, ib. their vicissi- 
tudes, 94 ; poetry of the, 
102. 



Helvetius, the doctrines of, 
306, 310. 

Hemsterhuys, his Socratic 
Dialogues, 326. 

Henry of Ofterdingen, 187. 

Henry VIII. of England, his 
policy vindicated, 229. 

Heraclitus, 41. 

Hercules, 36, 39, 195. 

Herder, romances translated 
by, 195, 364 ; writings of, 
361; distinctive features of 
his genius, 364. 

Hermann, the deeds of, 147, 
148. 

Hermanni, by Klopstock, 
349. 

Hero-book, 188. 

Herodian, 80. 

Herodotus, 23 ; called the 
father of history, 26 ; his 
great work, ib. surveys the 
Egyptian monuments, 90. 

Hertha, secret worship of,, 
152. 

Hesiod, republican spirit of 
his works, 22, 36, 38. 

Hesiod, the poems of, 36 ; the 
Theogony attributed to, 
37. 

Hieroglyphics, 103. 

High- German, origin of, 169. 

Hindoos, their sacred books, 
114 ; their descriptive poe- 
try, 115 ; benefits derived 
by from the British Govern- 
ment, 116; immolation of 
their widows, ib. ; origin 
of their versification, 119 ; 
translations of their sacred 
books by Jones, Wilkins and 



408 



INDEX. 



Colebrooke, 120 ; their phi- 
losophy, 122-128 ; points of 
resemblance between their 
conceptions and those of 
the Christians, 131, 132. 

Hindoostan, religion and phi- 
losophy of, 128. 

History, its deterioration, 75. 

Hitopadesa, the Indian fable- 
book, 120. 

Hobbes, 298, 332. 

Hoffinanswaldau, spurious 
taste introduced by, 345. 

Holbein, 228. 

Home, 316. 

Homer, extensive influence of 
his genius, 9 ; characteris- 
tics of his poems, 17, 19, 36; 
compared with Indian, Per- 
sian and Old German poe- 
try, 21 ; also with Hesiod 
and the other Greek epic 
poets, 22 ; his Mythology, 
37, 38 ; his representation 
of the Gods, 39; high 
merits of, 260 ; the mas- 
terpiece of nature, 362. 

Horace, heroic grandeur of 
his poems, 71 ; appeals to 
our sympathies, 74, 143. 

Horatii, 61, 65. 

Hoshenk, 92. 

Hume's History of England, 
302; remarks on, 317, 318; 
his philosophy, 321. 

Hungarians, their poetry and 
traditions, 223, 224. 

Hurd, 316. 

Huss, persecution of, 229. 

Icelandic poetry, 220. 



Idylls, of the ancients, 54. 

Iliad and Odyssey compared 
with Ossian, 21. 

Illuminati, a religious sect, 
386. 

Imagination, an enlightened 
one, 243. 

Immortality, personal ideas of, 
42. 

Incarnation, Indian doctrine 
of the, 129. 

India, its mythology, 38, 107 ; 
architecture, ib. ; com- 
merce of the Greeks and 
Eomans with, 112 ; degra- 
dation of the people of, ib. ; 
Alexander's invasion of, 113; 
British sway in, 1 16 ; re- 
semblance between its moral 
philosophy and that of 
Christianity, 130; connec- 
tions of, with Persia, 132; 
dissemination of Christi- 
anity in, 133. 

Indian alphabet, 122. 

Indian Monuments and Epics, 
107. 

Indian versification, 119. 

Indians, their idea of a Deity, 
38.- 

Inspiration, the soul of song, 
51. 

Ionic, rhapsodists, 22. 

Ionic school of philosophy, 41. 

Iphigenia, 64. 

Iran, 182. 

Isabella and Ferdinand, reign 
of, 247. 

Isaiah, 94. 

Isocrates, example of, 47. 

Italy, its literature, 197 ; 



INDEX. 



409 



poetry of, 56, 206, 248; 
pictorial achievements of, 
206 ; its philosophy, 229. 

Jacobi, writings of, 324, 361, 

378, 380. 
Jansenists, sect of the, 297. 
Janus, 38. 
Jerome, 145. 
JerusalemDelivered, by Tasso, 

253. 
Job, the sufferings of, 93 ; the 

Book of, 99. 
John of Salisbury, 168. 
Joinville, Sieur de, 194. 
Jones, Sir William, 114, 120, 

122, 329. 
Jornandes, the Latin histo- 
rian, 148. 
Joseph the II., Emperor of 

Germany, 371. 
Julian, the Emperor, 81, 134 ; 

his attempts to subvert 

Christianity, 135. 
Jung-Stilling, 370. 
Jupiter and Juno, 39. 
Justinian, 134-136. 
Juvenal's Satires, 74. 

Kaiomer, 92. 

Kalidas, 118. 

Kant, the German philoso- 
pher, 324, 347, 356, 357, 
360, 366, 367, 368; in- 
fluence of his philosophy, 
376, 386 ; on the province 
of reason, 377 ; his scepti- 
cal views, 378 ; errors of, 
ib. ; formulas of, 386. 

Kisfalud, a Hungarian poet, 
224. 

Kleist, a German poet, 346. 



Klopstock, 199, 202, 261; 
new era of literature foun- 
ded by, 339, 343, 347; his 
Messiah the commence- 
ment of a new Literature in 
Germany, 348, 351, 355, 
387 ; his dramatic poem of 
Hermanni, 349 ; his versi- 
fication, 351 ; the leading 
author of his time, 354 ; 
genius of, 356; errors of, 
357, 358, 360, 361; high 
standard of, 362, 371 ; al- 
luded to, 372, 382, 387. 

Knights of St. John, 190. 

Knowledge, supernatural, 
sources of, 84. 

Korner, Theodore, his lyrics, 
384. 

Kranach, Lucas, 228. 

Krishna, 12. 

Kronegk,a German poet, 346. 

Kronos, 38. 

Labruyere, characters of, 309. 

Lafontaine, his grace of style, 
308. ^ 

Lamartine, his poetical com- 
positions, 313. 

Lamennais, his views of 
•Christianity, 324. 

Language, a great and glo- 
rious gift, 6 ; grammatical 
forms of, 106. 

Language, English, its culti- 
vation, 3. 

Language, German, beauties 
of the, 2. 

Language, Latin, the Bible 
translated into the, 142; 
its decline, 144; the lingua 
rustica ? 14i5, 160; injurious 



410 



INDEX. 



use of it after it became a 
dead language, 208. 

Launcelot, 179. 

Laura, a real personage, 204 ; 
her portrait, by Memmi, ib. 

Lavater, writings of, 361 ; bis 
views on physiognomy, 366. 

Learning, the threefold de- 
pendencies on, 394. 

Leibnitz, Philosophy of, 332- 
335; his Theodicee, 336; 
his System der Theologie, 
337 ; his notions respecting 
Space and Time, 338, 367. 

Leila, 183. 

Leo X. 207. 

Leopold the Glorious, 187. 

Lessing, 242, 283, 337, 347, 
productions of, 355, 356, 
357, 358, 360 ; spirit of his 
criticism, 363 ; his investi- 
gation of truth, 365, 366 ; 
philosophy of, 367 ; his 
Education of Humanity, 
and Freemason's Dialogues, 
ib. ; a critical investigator, 
368 ; his influence through- 
out Protestant Germany, 
369. 

Leucippus, 42. 

Libraries, consumed by fire, 
162. 

Life, the enigma of, 85. 

Literature, the influence of, 
1 ; its importance to the 
well-being and dignity of 
nations, 6 ; mediaeval, 139 ; 
three periods of, 135 ; view- 
ed as an organ of tradition, 
160 ; of the northern and 
eastern nations of Europe, 



216; a national one advo- 
cated, 225 ; influence of the 
Eeformation on, 227. 

Literature, Trench, rich in 
historical memoirs, 278, 
279 ; important feature 
in, 325. 

Literature, German, 218 ; the 
so-called Golden Age of, 
354 ; its prospects, 385 ; its 
characteristics, 387, 391 ; 
its present state, 392. 

Literature, Grecian, 11, 12. 

Literature, Italian, 197, 218. 

Literature, Roman, peculiar 
grandeur of 11,71; during 
the Middle Ages, 160 ; in- 
jurious results of its adop- 
tion, 161 ; classical period 
of, 78. 

Literature, Scandinavian, 219. 

Literature, Spanish, excel- 
lence of, 217. 

Livy, 61, 74. 

Locke, 86 ; compared with 
Bacon and Berkeley, 320; 
philosophy of, 299, 300,335. 

Lohen stein, 345. 

Longinus, 88. 

Lope de Vega, 262 ; his dra- 
matic works, 263. 

Louis the XIV., 302 ; writers 
in the time of, 303, 308, 
344. 

Louis the XVth, 80. 

Love-songs, German, 173. 

Lucan, characteristic of his 
poems, 75, 144. 

Lucian, his witty picture of 
his times, 80. 

Lucretia, 61. 



INDEX. 



411 



Lucretius, his work on the 
nature of things, 66 ; a 
glorious painter of Nature, 
67, 68. 

Luther, Martin, antagonistic 
to Aristotle, 239 ; his re- 
vision of the Bible, 339 ; 
his revolutionary eloquence, 
340 ; his mental superiority 
to his associates, 341, 368. 

Macbeth, 266. 

Macchiavelli, his high merits 
as an historian, 211 ; his 
patriotism, ib. ; contrast 
drawn by, between French 
and German character, 212; 
his startling peculiarity, 
ib. ; alluded to, 249, 289, 
301, 332. 

Madrid, the drama at, 261. 

Mahabharat, an Indian epic. 
109. 

Mahometans, their persecu- 
tion- of the Hindoos, 116. 

Maid of Orleans, by Chape- 
lain, 281. 

Maistre, Count de, 324, 328. 

Malabar, dissemination of 
Christianity along the coast 
of, 133. 

Malebranche, a defender of 
revelation, 294. 

Man, his destiny and origin, 
84; history of, 89, 319. 

Marco Polo, called Messer 
Millione, 176. 

Marius, 256. 

Marmontel, his memoirs and 
tales, 312. 

Marot, 279, 342. 



Mars, 150. 

Marshman, Joshua, translator 

of the Ramayan, 109. 
Mathematics, progress of, in 

the seventeenth century, 2 10 
Maximilian, the Emperor, 

185, 208, 229. 
Maya, 96, 125. 
Mediaeval literature, 139, 160. 
Mediaeval philosophy, 233. 
Mediaeval poetry, 177, 179. 
Medici, the, 205. 
Melancthon, the friend of 

Aristotle, 239. 
Melchisedec, 97. 
Memmi, his portrait of Laura, 

204. 
Memoirs, French, 194. 
Menander, his depiction of 

Athenian life, 50, 52. 
Menu, the legislative code of, 

114, 122, 127. 
Mercury, 150. 

Messia,the Margravate of, 354. 
Messiah, by Klopstock, 348. 

351, 354. 
Metastasio, performances of, 

316. 
Metempsychosis, the Indian 

doctrine of, 111, 112. 
Middle Ages, 158 ; their chi- 
valrous poetry, 177-179 ; 

Architecture of the, 190 ; 

Allegory in the, 198 ; unjust 

depreciation of them, 167, 

244. 
Milan Cathedral, 190. 
Milton, 21; his Paradise Lost, 

257 ; disadvantages under 

which he laboured, 273 ; 

compared with Shakspere 



412 



INDEX. 



and Spenser, ib. 275, 277, 
278 ; and with Bcehmen, 
343. 

Mimansa, his system of In- 
dian philosophy, 1 26. 

Minnegesang, or love-poetry, 
171, 172. 

Minnelieder, 188, 193. 

Minstrelsy, the old German, 
185. 

Mithridates, 150. 

Moliere, his comic humour, 
308, 309. 

Montaigne, 279. 

Montesquieu, his genius,303. 

Moorish Architecture, 190. 

Mosaic records, 88, 90. 

Moses, 88, 89 ; brevity of his 
information, 93 ; his laws, 
97 ; his temple of Hindoo 
prophecy, 395. 

Miiller, Johannes, writings 
of, 361, 373. 

Mystics, 233. 

Mythology, originators of, 36 ; 
its materialism, 37; defence 
of, 40 ; the northern, 154. 



Nastiks, or Nihilists, an 
Indian sect, 126. 

Naples, changes in the govern- 
ment of, 206. 

Nature, the manifestations of, 
67. 

Neo-Platonic Philosophy, 81, 
134. 

Nero, 75. 

Nerva, 76. 

Nestorius, 133. 

New Testament, its literary 



influence, 139 ; its form and 

style, 141. 
Newton, his great discoveries, 

300. 
Nibelungen-lied,the,148, 157, 

177, 220; question as to 

its authorship, 187 ; its high 

merits as a poem, 188. 
Nicholas of Cusa, the great 

mathematician, 234. 
Niebuhr, his Roman History, 

61. 
Nikolai, 370. 
Noah, 93. 
Normans, their language and 

sentiments, 175. 
Northern Mvthology, 132, 

182. 
Novalis, 379. 
Nyaya, a doctrine attributed 

to Gautama, 126. 

Oberon, poem of, 350. 

Odin, 148, legends respect- 
ing him, 149 ; more than 
one, 150 ; worship of, ib. ; 
his mythology, 153 ; his 
"Walhalla, 154; commemo- 
rated in the Icelandic Ed da, 
ib. ; his visit to the nether 
world, 155. 

Odoacer, 148. 

Odyssey, the, 21. 

Old Testament, 95 ; its prin- 
cipal elements, 96; its cha- 
racter and spirit, 98, 100 ; 
its peculiarities of language 
and form, 101-104. 

Opitz, a Silesian poet, 344, 
compared with Elemming, 
345. 



INDEX. 



413 



Oratory, a principal object of 
education, 55. 

Orestes, 266. 

Origen, the early Christian 
philosopher, 134. 

Orpheus, a name of some im- 
port to the historian, 36. 

Ossian, 19 ; his poems, 155, 
181; his plaintive melan- 
choly, 314. 

Ottfrid, a Christian bard, 126. 

Otto von Freisingen, 167. 

Oupnekat, 121. 

Ovid, the writings of, 40, 53; 
his Metamorphoses, ib. 



Pacuvius, 64. 

Painters, Italian, 207; Ger- 
man, 228. 

Pantomime, 64. 

Paper, discovery of its use, 
214, 215. 

Parable, 101, 103. 

Paradise Lost, by Milton, 257. 

Paradise Regained, 278. 

Parallelism, 101, 102. 

Parmenides, 48. 

Parsees, 48 ; their sacred 
writings, 106. 

Pascal, a celebrated French 
writer, 297 ; his Provincial 
Letters, 298. 

Pastor Fido, an Arcadian 
drama, 255. 

Paterculus, 75. 

Pelasgians, 14. 

Peloponnesian "War, 15. 

Pelops, 18. 

Percy, English Ballads col- 
lected by, 314. 



Perpetual edict, or Roman 
code of laws, 78. 

Persepolis, ruins of the city 
of, 108. 

Persian poetry, 182. 

Persian religion, its poetic 
element, 107. 

Persians, their wars with the 
Greeks, 15, 22, 23 ; com- 
pared with the Hebrews, 
91 ; their creed, ib. ; their 
connection with India, 132. 

Persius, 75. 

Petrarch, love-sonnets of, 161; 
perfection of his muse, 203 ; 
alluded to, 172, 173, 197, 
203, 204, 249. 

Philadelphus, reign of, 88. 

Philosophers, German, 235. 

Philosophy, of the ancients, 
41 ; its restoration by So- 
crates, 49 ; cultivation of, 
in conjunction with rhetoric, 
79 ; the new Platonic, 81 ; 
influence of the eastern, 
134 ; progress of, 230 ; 
mediaeval, 233 ; remarks 
on,previous and subsequent 
to the Reformation, 236 ; 
system of, in the seven- 
teenth century, 286. 

Philosophy, English, remarks 
on, 322. 

Philosophy, French, 324. 

Philosophy, German, obser- 
vations on, 331. 

Phcedra, by Racine, 295. 

Phoenicians, their connection 
with the Baltic, 152. 

Physicians, denounced as im- 
postors, 56. 



414 



INDEX. 



Physics, progress of, in the 
seventeenth century, 210. 

Pindar, reputation of, 23 ; 
value of his works, ib. ; his 
great characteristic, 24 ; 
compared with JEschyius, 
24, 25, 59. 

Pisistratus and Pisistratida?, 
18, 19. 

Pius Antoninus, 80. 

Plato, his Phcedo and Repub- 
lic, 48 ; his philosophic 
teaching, ib. ; compared 
with Aristotle, 49, 86, 87 j 
his intellectual superiority, 
60 ; tenets of, 69 ; regards 
Philosophy as an art, 82 ; 
refutes the Sophists, ib. ; 
his contemplation of Divi- 
nity, 83 ; efforts of his dis- 
ciples, 84 ; leaning towards 
his system, 236. 

Plautus, 64. 

Pleasure, on the pursuit of, 69. 

Pliny, the elder, his forced 
style, 75. 

Pliny, the younger, his pane- 
gyric on Trajan, 78. 

Plotinus, 137. 

Plutarch, on the style of, 79, 
80. 

Poet and the Artist, 4. 

Poetry, primitive, destination 
of, 51 ; elements of, ib. 

Poetry of the Greeks, 52 ; its 
tendency, 53 ; pastoral, 54; 
the business of, 66 ; its re- 
lation to nature, 67 ; of the 
Hebrews, 102 ; German, 
148, 156, 187, 189, 342, 
344, 348, 350 ; influence of 



the Oriental in Europe, 
180 ; Persian, 183 ; chival- 
rous, 185 ; French, 192, 
281, 308 ; Spanish, 194, 
243, 264; Early Italian, 
197, 205 ; of Catholic 
Countries, 246 ; the pro- 
per materials for. 259 ; le- 
gitimate themes of, 260; 
English, 273, 314 ; of the 
Silesian school, 315. 

Polier, a distinguished Ori- 
entalist, L21. 

Polybius, his great work, 57. 

Pompey, 74, 50. 

Pope, his translation of Ho- 
mer, 314 ; his poems, ib. 

Porphyry, 137. 

Porsena, 61. 

Porus, 121. 

Prabodh Chandrodaya, an 
Indian philosophical come- 
dy, 127. 

Prakriti, 125. 

Printing, discovery of the art 
of, 215 ; of German origin, 
219. 

Prometheus, 64. 

Propertius, the Roman Ele- 
giac poet, 53. 

Prophets, the Hebrew, 98. 

Prose, its high pitch of eleva- 
tion among the Romans, 
74. 

Protestantism, influence of, 
230. 

Provencal language, 171. 

Psalms, the book of, 99 ; 
translated into Latin, 144. 

Pulci, the first predecessor 
of Ariosto, 205. 



INDEX. 



415 



Pultowa, battle of, 224. 

Puranas, or mythologic le- 
gends, 122. 

Puruschottama, 125. 

Pythagoras, propagates the 
idea of a personal immorta- 
lity, 42, 56, 109, 110, 112. 

Pythagoreans, 32, 41, 81. 

Quevedo, 264. 
Quinctilian, 163. 

Rabelais, 279. 

Eacine, the French poet, 279; 
the character of, 284 ; his 
Athalie,ib.285',hisJPJi(sdra, 
295 ; his Berenice, ib.\ at- 
tached to the opinions of 
the Jansenists, 297. 

Eaina, the popular Indian 
Epic of, 108, 119. 

Eaphael, paintings of, 207. 

Eeason, 84 ; the age of, 244. 

Eeformation, the, its influence 
on literature, 227 ; its ef- 
fects on the Fine Arts, 228 ; 
and on philosophy, 243 — 
245. 

Eegeneration, Indian notion 
of, 130. 

Eeimarus, his attack on re- 
vealed religion, 367. 

Eeineke Fuchs, story of, 192. 

Eetz, Cardinal, 301. 

Eeuchlin, the celebrated ori- 
ental scholar, 234. 

Eevaj, a Hungarian scholar, 
223. 

Eevelation, recognition of, 
380. 



Eichardson, his descriptive 
talent, 261; romances of, 
311. 

Eichelieu, Academy estab- 
lished by, 279. 

Eienzi, 206, 249. 

Eitson, his old English bal- 
lads, 220. 

Eobertson, 302 ; his character 
as a historian, 317. 

Eoger, 120. 

Eoland, Norman war-song in 
honour of, 176. 

Eomance languages, the, 142. 

Eomance, modern, founded on 
the School of Cervantes, 
258. 

Eomance of the Eose, 193. 

Eomans,their intellectual cul- 
tivation, 57 ; poetic genius 
of the, 61 ; their epics and 
fictions, ib. ; dramatic 
poetry of the, 64 ; review 
of their principal writers, 
65-76 ; their laws of the 
twelve Tables, 122, 

Eome, Greek philosophers 
expelled from, 56 ; litera- 
ture of, 58, 142 ; origin of 
her greatness, 62 ; its 
heroic age, 63 ; effect of 
gladiatorial exhibitions at, 
65 ; purity of the language 
at, 145 ; encouragement of 
the arts in, 206. 

Borneo, 275. 

Eomulus, 61. 

Eoncesvalles, battle of, 176. 
Eonsard, the French poet, 
280, 281 ; his Franchiad,^. 



416 



INDEX. 



Roscoe, his character as an 
historian, 318. 

Roswitha, Latin poem of, 160. 

Rousseau, his noxious in- 
fluence over his nation and 
age, 304 ; followers of, 310; 
his Confessions, 312 ; his 
style, ib. 324. 

Rudiger, the Margrave, 186. 

Ruggiero, one of Ariosto's 
heroes, 251. 

Runic Alphabet, 151 ; in- 
scriptions, 152. 

Russia, her advances in civili- 
zation, 222. 

Ruth, book of, 98. 

Sabines, wars of the Romans 

with the, 63. 
Sachs, Hans, of Niirnberg, 

342. 
St. Anno, "Bishop of Cologne, 

157. 
St. Augustin, moral treatise 

by, 138. 
St. Graal, poems of, 179, 198. 
St. Jerome, a Christian Latin 

author, 145. 
St. Louis, 194 ; his deeds and 

fortunes, 281. 
St. Martin, writings of, 326 ; 

spirit of his philosophy, 327, 

328. 
St. Pierre, Bernardin de, 311. 
St. Sophia, Church of, 145, 

164, 190. 
Sakuntala, an Indian drama, 

115 • translated by Sir "Wil- 
liam Jones, 118. 
Sallust, style of, 70. 



Samaneans, meaning of the 
term, 114, 124. 

Samnite "War, the, 62. 

Sandrocuttus, 121. 

Sankhya-doctrine of philoso- 
phy,127.. 

Sanskrit language, compared 
with the Greek, Latin, and 
Hebrew, 105, 106, 117. 

Santillana, 246. 

Satire, Roman, 74. 

Saturnine versification, 62. 

Savages, admiration of, 305. 

Saxon Emperors, progress of 
civilization under the, 167. 

Saxons, their mode of abjuring 
Paganism, 149 ; of North 
Germany, 169. 

Scandinavians, exercise of 
their influence onEuropean 
poetry, 219 ; their litera- 
ture, 220. 

Scepticism and moral belief, 
320. 

Schaman, 114. 

Schanameh, 118. 

Schelling, his theories of Na- 
ture, 385. 

Scherin, 183. 

Scherriffschah, the most ce- 
lebrated of Persian Poets, 
118. 

Schiller, his delineation of 
Wallenstein, 234 ; the 
poems of, ib., 373, 374, 
375 ; his Don Carlos, 382 ; 
the dramas of, 383. 

Schlegel, A. W., his transla- 
tion of Shakspere and Cal- 
deron, 382, 384. 



INDEX. 



417 



Schlegel, Elias, a German 
poet, 346. 

Schlegel, Frederick, his lec- 
tures on modern history, 
208, 227. 

Schloka, 101, 119. 

Sclavonic races, literature of 
the, 222. 

Scott, Sir "Walter, character 
of his poetry, 315. 

Scotus Erigena, 168. 

Scriptures, interpretation of 
the, 116. 

Sebastian, the youthful sove- 
reign of Portugal, 252. 

Sectarianism, in Germany, 
386. 

Seneca, the philosopher, 64, 
75; his antithetic style, 144. 

Sepoys, mutinous spirit 
among the, 104. 

Septuagint, 88. 

Sepulveda, a disciple of 
Aristotle, 231. 

Seven chiefs, their conquest 
of Hungary, 223. 

Sextus Empiricus, 80. 

Shakspere, his historical plays, 
66, 240 ; remark respect- 
ing, 265 ; compared with 
Calderon, 271 ; his faithful 
pictures of humanity, 272, 
274 ; grand elements in his 
plays, 275 ; highly appreci- 
ated in Germany, 276, 363 ; 
aversion of the Puritans to- 
wards, 277 ; his profound 
reflectiveness, ib. venera- 
tion for, 314. 

Shem, Ham, and Japhet, 89, 
93. 



Smollett, an imitator of Cer- 
vantes, 311. 

Socrates, 28 ; reviled by Aris- 
tophanes, 35 ; his commen- 
dable exertions, ib. ; incul- 
cates the doctrine of a 
deity, 44 ; charge brought 
against him, ib. ; his pecu- 
liar views, 45 ; his votive 
offering to Aesculapius, 
46 ; alluded to, 191, 240. 

Solomon, 94 ; the writings of, 
99, 191. 

Solon, operation of his genius, 
10 ; his promotion of pub- 
lic education, 16 ; alluded 
to, 17, 18, 35, 40. 

Songs, old heroic ones, 62. 

Sophists and philosophers of 
Greece, 28, 35, 43, 44, 45. 

Sophocles, exquisite beauty 
of his compositions, 27, 28, 
34, 50, 59 ; splendid tra- 
gedy of, 267, 269. 

Soul, doctrines concerning its 
immortality, 42. 

Souls, transmigration of, 109, 
112, 115, 134. 

Space and Time, notions re- 
specting, 338. 

Spanish Literature, its advan- 
tages over that of other na- 
tions, 194; its ballads, 196 ; 
cultivation of its poetry 
by nobles and knights, 246 ; 
high national tone of its 
poetry, 249 ; systematic 
rules of the prose writers, 
257 ; dramatic writings, 
262 ; its gradual progress to 
the summit of genuine art, 



2 E 



418 



ItfDEX. 



264 ; not a model for other 

nations, 271. 
Sparta, intellectual superiori- 
ty in, 60. 
Spenser, his Fairy Queen, 273. 
Sphinx, the Theban, 155. 
Spinoza, doctrines of, 333; 

errors of, 334; system of, 

368. 
Spirit and Soul, doctrine of, 

125. 
Stael, Madame de, 325. 
Stark, writings of, 370. 
Sterne, productions of, 312. 
Stoics, 49. 
Stollberg, the German poet, 

360, 361; his dignified 

simplicity of style, 379. 
Suicide, condemnation of, 46. 
Sulzer, a philosopher of the 

olden school, 366. 
Symbolism, of the Bible, 200; 

Christian, 267. 
Syncretic Schools, 49. 

Tacitus, genius of, 76, 150. 

Tarentum, 56. 

Tarquin, 61. 

Tasso, 188, 207; Christian 
theme of his great epic, 
252; his Pastoral of 
Aminta, 253 ; re-models 
his Jerusalem Delivered, 
ib. ; his conceits, 254 ; reply 
of, 255. 

Tauler, the philosopher, 235. 

Terence, an imitator of Men- 
ander, 50, 64. 

Thales, the founder of Grecian 
philosophy, 16, 41. 

Theban brothers, the, 64. 



Thebes, storming of, 36. 
Theocritus, the Idylls of, 54. 
Theodoric the Goth, 139, 

145, 147. 
Theophrastus, the character- 
painter, 49. 
Theuerdank, poem of, 192. 
Thibault, King of Navarre, 

192, 
Thibet, mode of disposing of 

the dead in, 110. 
Thomson, his Seasons, 314. 
Thousand and one Nights, 180 

—182. 
Thucydides, 29 ; character of 

his history, 30, 31, 47. 
Tieck, the German poet, 390. 
Titus, the Emperor, 76. 
Traditions, national, 9. 
Tragedy, origin of, 50; themes 

for, 65 ; prevailing form 

of the ancient, 266. 
Trajan, his high intellect, 76, 

78 ; death of, ib. 
Trees, held sacred, 153. 
Trinity, Indian ideas of the, 

129. 
Tristram, a love-epic of the 

Middle Ages, 178, 179. 
Trithemius, Bishop, 234. 
Trojan leaders of the Middle 

Ages, 184. 
Trojan War, the, 18. 
Troubadour poetry, maturity 

of, 246. 
Truth, its existence denied, 

43. 
Twice-born, an epithet applied 

to the Bramins, 130. 

Ulphilas, the translator of 



INDEX. 



419 



the Scriptures into the 

Gothic, 147. 
Ulysses, 19, 20 ; visits Ger- 
many, 150 5 alluded to, 

195. 
Uneducated, mental power of 

the, 240. 
Unity, immutable, without 

motive power, 43. 
Upanishat, a commentary on 

the Yedas, 114. 
Utz, a German poet, 346. 

Yalmiki, the Indian poet, 109 ; 
the reputed author of the 
Eamayan, 119. . 

Varro, a collector of valuable 
works, 77. 

Yedanta doctrine, in India, 
the, 126, 127. 

Yedas, the, 96, 114. 

Yega, Lope de, 262 ; his dra- 
matic compositions, 263 ; 
his vanity and ambition, 
264. 

Yelleda, 147. 

Yenetians, their manners and 
arts, 206. 

Yespasian, 76. 

Vicar of Wakefield, 312. 

Yillena, 246. 

Virgil, his love of nature, 72 ; 
his Eclogues and Georgics, 
ib. ; his JEneid, 72 ; alluded 
to, 118. 

Virtue, definition of, 85. 

Voltaire, 280; his prefaces, 
283 ; Alzire, his master- 
piece, 285, 286; compared 
to Eacine, 295 ; and Pas- 
cal, 298 ; introduces the 



philosophy of Locke and 
Newton into France, 300 ; 
his pernicious views of 
history, 301 ; his errors 
and prejudices, 302 ; his 
partiality for the Chinese, 
305 ; his philosophy alluded 
to, 308—311; his Candide, 
ib.; his prose style, 312, 
347,363. 

Von Eschenbach, "Wolfram, 
his celebrity, 189. 

Voss, the German poet, 360, 
361. 

Walhalla, Odin's, 153, 155. _ 

"Wallenstein, Schiller's deli- 
neation of, 234, 266. 

"Walpole, Horace, on Ossian's 
poems, 181. 

"Walpurgis night, 153. 

"Warton, 316. 

"Water and fire, reverence for, 
41. 

Weisskunig, poem of, 192. 

"Werner, his dramatic works, 
383. 

"Widows, Indian, immolation 
of, 116. 

Wieland, a German poet, 
350; his poem of Oberon, 
ib. ; his laudable endea- 
vours, 353, 361 ; philoso- 
phic romances of, 366, 387. 

Wilkins, the Sanskrit scholar, 
120, 122. 

Winckelmann, 347, 356, 357 ; 
his taste for the beautiful 
in art, 358, 363; philoso- 
phic tendency of his writ- 
ings, 365. 



420 INDEX. 

"Wolf, philosophy of, 339. Ximena, Donna, 195. 

Woman, dignity of, 32. York and Lancaster, feuds of, 

Word of life, 142, 242. 193. 

Writers, ancient, preservation Young, his NigTit Thoughts, 

of their works, 163. 314. 

Wynelieder, or love- songs, Ysdragill, the sacred Ash of 

i72. the Icelandic Edda, 154. 

Xenophanes, 27, 41. Zegris, the, 247. 

Xenophon, contrasted with Zendavesta, 92, 107. 

Thucydides and Plato, 47. Zohak, 182. 

Xerxes, 18 ; expedition of, Zoroaster, 92, 107 ; the fol- 

23. lowers of, 110, 124. 



THE END. 



LONDON : PRINTED B. WILLrAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET 



'■* £> 



«*!f 






>♦*. - V 



War Department Library 

Washington, D. C. 

Mo... ^~"- 



Losses or injuries 
must be promptly ad- 
justed. 

No books issued 
during the month 
of August. 

Time Limits : 
Old books, two 
weeks subject to 
renewal at the op- 
tion of the Librarian. 
New books, one 
week only. 



ACME LIBRARY CARD POCKET 
Made by LIBRARY BUREAU, Boston 



KEEP YOUR CARD IN THIS POCKET 





&y^ 


C _ s f 


m 








v 
TO 












9 




K 


— t 





JTv ' 



t, w 



WM&; •- ; -• ^ -4..- . •* #*# /V i 



»%-■■• -..a^r 



.«! 



